Scraps of History
by LadyRudo
Summary: For my Parallel Paths People. Glimpses into our OC girl's past with ShinRa Inc., meandering back and forth throughout her time as a Turk.
1. Calypso, part 1

Smoothly, she slid into the pristine office, frowning at her target.

"And still you work. I beg and plead on hands and..." she trailed, trying to catch his attention. The green eyes remained focused on the papers on the desk while she walked behind, unbuttoning her starched blue suit jacket.

"...knees..." she cooed into his ear. He did not even address her. She dropped the act and tried a less subtle one, pulling her gun on him, aiming at the strikingly straight and untangled hair spilling past his shoulders.  
>"Stop reading, or I shoot." He did not look, though she knew he could sense the weapon at his back. A long sigh later, the gun was holstered and the deep blue blazer lay strewn across the black leather chaise, in which she never once saw him sit.<br>"You don't know what you're missing out there, in the world. In our world, that is, not yours," she explained, still behind him, untucking her black shirt and beginning to unbutton it. She paced around the desk, a hungry feline stalking her prey.  
>"The music, the lights, the dark, the drinks...It's really something else. And tonight, of all nights..."<br>He scribbled a signature at the bottom of one of the many documents decorating his desk, never stopping to glance up at the figure now leaning on two bare arms at the front of it.  
>"He <em>is<em> your superior," she reminded in a low voice. "To miss the Vice President's birthday would simply be...callous. He looks up to you so..." she taunted.  
>"He will not miss me," he replied to the papers.<br>She rolled her eyes, and resigned herself to the only act that ever resulted in a change of heart for this man. Determination led her to the side of the desk, where she straightened her black tank undershirt before lying back slowly, stretching her body out on top of his desk, his papers, his hands. Her arms came up over her head as she lay on display, her long legs crossed casually on the desk, showing off her new black patent shoes. Papers hidden, he was forced to meet her loaded gaze. Her eyebrow arched, then her back.  
>"Why would such a strong woman resort to such demeaning behavior?" he asked, tilting his head, but undeniably looking her over.<br>A throaty laugh accompanied a devilish grin. "Because it works...Even on you, General."  
>He shook his head, but stood, slowly sliding his hands out from under her back.<br>At this, she jumped up and off of the desk, grabbing her shirt and jacket from the chaise.  
>As they left the office, he pulled on his long black coat. "Have you considered that this response is born of pity?"<br>She turned off the lights and led him through the wide door with a confident smile. "I never said it wasn't. You're driving. And I need to stop by my apartment to change."

"I am not a taxi."

"You won't be sorry. I'll really give you something to pity."

An hour later later, a sleek black car pulled up outside of _Calypso_, easily the most exclusive club in Midgar. A young valet opened the passenger door and two long legs stepped out on black stilettos. She stood, and straightened her dress: a black strapless number with red detailing and a skirt that ended mid-thigh.  
>"No one will recognize you," said her date, stepping around the car to meet her.<br>"Maybe. But I'm always just one of the guys at work. Tonight...I'm not. I'm a single woman with her own money and great legs. Tonight, I plan to use them both."

The Shinra crowd was easy to find: the entire upper level of the club had been reserved for this party. She could see Tseng talking to Scarlet, Palmer eating from a full plate, and Reno speaking into the ear of Rufus Shinra, all from the lower level. The balcony was dimly lit, like the rest of the club. The pair weaved through a growing crowd on the dance floor to the metal staircase.  
>"You go first. I'll go get a drink," she said, acknowledging what they both knew: they could not arrive together.<br>Nodding his response, he began ascending the stairs to the VIP balcony. Upon his stepping into the party, the chorus of surprised greetings made her laugh from the bottom of the stairs.  
>Ten minutes later, a bright red drink in hand, she reached the top of the stairs. Immediately, she could tell that sobriety had made a collective exit. People were laughing loudly, calling across the room to one another, dancing to the drowning music from downstairs. The sight of the looseness made her grin. As she walked through the lounge, she felt several pairs of eyes follow her.<br>Her target was easy to find, surrounded by her co-workers. Upon seeing her approach, Reno, Rude, and Tseng stepped away from Rufus. She closed the gap between herself and the now staring Vice President.  
>"Happy birthday, Rufus," she said coolly.<br>"Thank you. You look...nice," he said, failing to hide his gaze as it traveled up and down her figure.  
>"So? What was it this year?" she asked, referring to the extravagant gift he received each year from his distanced, disinterested father.<br>"'You've been a tremendous asset to the company. Happy Birthday,'" he quoted from a black card his father had sent to his office earlier in the day.  
>This yearly reminder of his father's inattention was familiar to her from her days as his personal bodyguard, a position now held by Reno, who seemed to not yet know of the heartbreaking tradition.<br>"And? Let me guess. A car? No, that was last year. A servant? No, you have them," she joked, referring to the three Turks leaning against the balcony railing. "I give up."  
>"A gun."<br>She closed her eyes and groaned. "Ooh...such symbolism," she sighed, again referring to one of their private understandings. "Well," she said, opening her eyes and meeting his with more warmth this time, "you are an admired man. Try to enjoy the night. It is, of course, all for you. What are you drinking, here?"  
>Glowing green eyes watched from the corner of the lounge as she spoke to Rufus.<br>Several moments of light conversation passed before she finally stepped away and let the other Turks wander back in. She exchanged her now-empty glass for two full champagne flutes from a passing waiter's tray. Holding the sparkling glasses by their thin stems, she crossed the room toward the dark corner in which her driver stood, watching the rest of the party.

"Is this all you hoped it would be?" he asked, taking one of the flutes from her fingers.

"This is nothing. This is the warm-up. This is when you make your rounds, do your obligated schmoozing before the faint-of-hearts leave and the atmosphere shifts and you can't see more than a few feet in front of you, and the music is too loud to hear someone calling your name from across the room, and you feel completely isolated, despite being surrounded by people. It gets under your skin and eats away at your inhibitions until you become a wickedly pure version of yourself."  
>A moment of silence passed between them as he processed her description.<br>Eventually, he asked into her ear, "Who, exactly, stays for _that?_"  
>"The first rule of the experience is that it is considered universally anonymous. That's the beauty of the thing. But, if you must know, it's usually the VP and his trio, Reno, Rude, and Tseng. Scarlet has stayed. Reeve stayed once. If any SOLDIERs show, they usually stick around. Actually, I have to talk to Tseng for a minute. And probably Scarlet. When the fog rolls in, I'll find you. Take your coat off, stay a while," she said into his ear before inhaling the trademark muted scent of his aftershave mingled with leather.<br>She was not gone long before several executives said their happy-birthdays and goodbyes to the vice president. The music faded out into silence, and the many conversations occurring around the club dwindled into an anticipatory quiet. Reno, who was directly in her line of sight, gave a wicked smile and arched his eyebrow. She smiled and nodded back just before the entire club went black.  
>Cheers and celebratory howls filled the pitch black building. An artificial cool fog spread throughout the building. After a full minute of darkness, laser lights, strobes, and multi-colored hanging lamps sparked on accompanied by drastically louder music. This was the world she had promised.<p> 


	2. Calypso, part 2

It was best to slip away for the beginning, to allow for inhibitions to slip away naturally. People distanced themselves from one another, the timid standing out from the bold, who always pursued first. She hated falling into either role, so she hid away in a blackened corner, downing shots, listening to the loud music bring people together in dancing.

After her traditional period of absence, the upper section of the club was dark, foggy, and lit red. Once-familiar faces were now difficult to distinguish without an invasion of personal space, which made these nights all the more interesting. She wandered along the railing, first running into Rude, who had his face buried in the neck of a young secretary. Shortly after passing them, she felt a warm hand on the small of her back.

"Found you," he whispered into her ear.

"So you did," she replied, turning around into a hungry kiss. She returned it lightly, then backed off. "Do you really want this, or are you projecting again?" she asked, pushing strands of bright red hair from his eyes.

"It must be your dress. Normally, I couldn't give two shits about your arrogant ass," he admitted, sliding his hand from her hip around her back again, "but it looks good in that dress."

"Oh, that's sweet," she responded sarcastically. "And your scrawny ass isn't really my type..."

He leaned in closer, the side of his lean face brushing against hers. "But?"

"No, that was all."

A hurt sigh escaped him, but he pulled her closer and spoke directly into her ear. "You're a cold bitch, you know that?"

"Oh, Reno, you sloppy child" she cooed, "you wouldn't have me any other way."

They shared another brief kiss, solidifying the insanity that was their relationship, and parted ways.

As the music changed rhythm, she leaned against the thick railing of the balcony, looking inward at the hazy Shinra bodies closing in one another in pairs.

Across the room, too far for her to see, leaned her former date against a cool steel wall.

"Are you here alone?" a husky female voice asked into his ear. He arched an eyebrow and turned his head toward Scarlet.

"Are you truly asking?" he replied, holding back the laugh that threatened to escape him at the sight of her far-too-low-cut red dress.

"Should I demand, instead?" she asked coyly, her fingers walking up his arm and across his shoulder, tangling in his hair. "Is this your first time at _Calypso?_ I haven't seen you here before. And I think I'd have noticed _you_..." she trailed, leaning closer. Her perfume overwhelmed his sensitive nose. "It's nice to see you doing something other than work..." she purred into his ear. "It must be so exhausting, to be such a...powerful...vital man."

"Just as I'm sure it's exhausting being...who are you again?" he asked. She stiffened, straightening her neck in indignation.

"You could have simply asked me to leave," she said, before turning on her heels and walking away.

"No, please, stop, don't go..." he muttered dryly, his eyes wandering away easily. Standing back having proved fruitless, he took the night into his own hands, slowly sliding through the dark fog of the loud lounge.

It did not take long to find more suitable company, though she did not see him coming. He took advantage of the rare opportunity to catch her off-guard and approached from the side while she danced wildly with a young SOLDIER recruit. Stopping to take in the entertaining view, he saw the recruit touch her waist lightly with one hand. When she did not stop his touch, he grabbed onto her more forcefully with both hands. She jerked slightly away, but continued dancing, being a good sport. The recruit began to slide his hands up her sides. She tried to nicely push them away, but he persisted, only stopping at the sight of a pair of glowing green eyes glaring at him from behind her. At this, he dropped his hands, turned around, and walked away quickly. She stopped dancing and slowly turned around, looking up into the eyes she expected.

"I could have taken care of him myself," she said.

"I didn't come to save you," he replied smoothly, placing his hands over the same place on her waist where the recruit's had been.

"You can't be serious. You want to dance?" she asked in disbelief.

"No. You dance."

The command was not one she'd have obeyed, had it come from any other's lips. For him, though, she grinned like a cat and swayed her hips to the all-consuming beat. Her arms came up over her head as her eyes closed, giving herself up to the power of the music. His nose picked up the light scent of her soap from hours before, and he found himself coming dangerously close to pulling her into him. He grappled with the startlingly human desire to touch her hair and taste the skin at the base of her neck. Such thoughts were a hindrance to his career as a war hero, an emotionally stable General. The thought came to him like the ringing of a bell: if he could face temptation and maintain distance, his strength and control would only increase. Marx would be kept close for just this purpose, as she was the first and only female to invoke such striking thoughts.

While he worked out these plans silently, she slowed to a halt, standing tall to look him in the eye, and still a few inches short.

"Wow, you're really good at standing in one place!" she complimented sarcastically. How she got away with such a tone was still a mystery to her, but his patience was a thin line she loved to walk. "You're taking this far too seriously," she added, trying to loosen his grip on sobriety. "Close your eyes, breathe light and shallow," she instructed, still slightly swaying, but now taking the liberty to run her hands up his chiseled torso. The muscles she felt from the outside of his thin black shirt sent a shiver down her spine and a devious smile across her lips. He played along, closing his eyes. Her hands slid across his chest, then up his neck, into his hair. "Deep breath," she commanded. He shook his head dismissively, but complied, inhaling deeply through his nose, then holding it in his chest.

In a deep whisper, she commanded again. "Exhale."

As he released the breath, she pulled a handful of his hair, forcing his head back. Before he could pull away, her teeth sank gently into the skin at the crook of his neck. His eyes flashed open, then involuntarily rolled upward. Adrenaline coursed through him, mixed with an unrecognizable sensation that, for a single second, nearly brought him to a knee.

With incredible speed, he regained his sharp senses and pushed her away with more force than required. She stumbled backward, bumping into Rufus, who had been involved in some sort of drinking game. Upon her intrusion, however, he caught her attention.

"I was hoping to see you soon," he began. "I would like for you to be my bodyguard for my trip home."

"Rufus, I'm not on duty. Don't you have someone...?" she trailed, looking around, but finding no Turks.

"He left. Some family emergency, I don't know. Marx, I trust you. I want you."

She sighed, knowing she was stuck. "When would you like to leave, Sir?" Addressing him by the title let him know her opinion of his request.

"As soon as I get my jacket. I'm sick of this place, anyway," he answered, and stepped away.

Her eyes turned back to her victim, who stood directly across from her, staring her down. She arched an eyebrow and gazed back. Their stares were loaded with vastly different messages. His cool green eyes read, _You will die for that._ Her sparkling, hooded lavender ones simply said, _You're welcome, Sephiroth._

A touch to the elbow let her know that Rufus was ready to leave and broke off her gaze. Sephiroth watched her leave on the arm of the Vice President. She played her role well.

Curiosity slipped through his defenses, and he followed at a distance, guessing about the relationship between Marx and Shinra. She had confessed feelings of genuine contempt for the younger man, and moments later sympathized for the pressure he must feel from his father. He knew that something had damaged their working relationship, but he knew not who was to blame.

From several steps behind, he watched Rufus slide his arm around her waist and whisper into her ear as they walked. She laughed, sending an unrecognizable sting through her pursuer's veins. They walked through the main floor slowly, drawing as many eyes as possible to Rufus's exit with a beautiful woman on his arm. He caught her gritting her teeth through her smiles.

Soon enough, they slipped through the large black door and into the cool night. He allowed more distance, and passed through the door himself, finding the pair walking down the sidewalk toward a limousine at the end of the block, a gap between them, arms to their sides. Rufus raised his arm to touch her back again, but now outside, she slapped it away and pointed in his face, undoubtedly making an indiscernible threat. Sephiroth smirked, and turned to walk back to the valet.

The image of Marx walking down the sidewalk in those lethal stilettos burned in his memory. He shook it away and settled again on his earlier plan. She would simply never tempt him into action. He would fight her off every time; he would fight off the weakness of humanity. She had proven herself a useful tool without even trying.

Yes, he would keep her close for just this purpose.


	3. Introduction

"And finally, if your captain does not address you directly, you do not speak. You are to be seen, not heard. This is your evaluation, but this is a real mission. Screwing up out there can mean your life. Don't take this lightly. If you get yourself in over your head, he will not save you."

.

Five recruits sat alongside one another around a small campfire at the base of Mt. Nibel. Two wore full uniforms, helmet and all, while the rest took a more relaxed stance.  
>"We've been out here for days, starving, barely able to sleep in the cold, no tent, no ammunition but what we came with. If these wolves don't let up, we're all going to die out here together," a dark-haired young man warned, venting his frustration, and not hiding his glare toward the tent of their leader. "I get the feeling he doesn't know what he's doing."<br>"He knows a lot more about this than any of us. All we have to do is make it back in one piece, and we're in. SOLDIER, baby. That's why we're here," an older man replied from across the fire. Everyone nodded, grumbling approval of the message  
>Before any other agitation could be voiced, vicious howls filled the air. The recruits jumped to their feet, each grabbing his own weapon of choice, two with guns, one with two long knives, one with a club, the last with a sword.<br>"Protect the reactor, and watch each other's backs, guys," the first man commanded.  
>A moment later, heavy fabric pulled away from the entrance to the large tent. Out stepped Sephiroth, Masamune in hand, eyeing his charges. More howls sounded, this time much louder.<br>He sighed, scratching his neck. They watched him for a command. He gave none, but only said, in a smooth, calculating tone, "This is what you've waited for. They're coming."

In a flash, two massive wolves leapt from the trees surrounding the recruits, taking two of them down in screams. The three remaining attacked, quickly eliminating the threat, pulling their peers to their feet. After that warning attack, the onslaught began.  
>Twenty wolves emerged, wildly attacking the closest bodies they found. The two recruits with guns fared well, easily killing the animals from a distance, until their clips emptied. Momentarily defenseless while reloading, these men were the first to fall, throats bloodied, shredded; mouths agape with cut-off screams.<br>Sephiroth stood back, attacking only when the wolves threatened him directly. A single strike of the Masamune killed the animals instantly.  
>Meanwhile, the attack continued, men battling animals, both in wild frenzies. The two helmeted recruits worked together, back to back, one with twin blades, the other with the sword. The swordsman found himself receiving more help than he needed to give. He was frustrated, though not surprised. They had worked together in simulations, and he always came in second. In both honor and mockery of his partner, he chose to mimic him by never removing his helmet. Now, as teeth gnashed at his protected face, he was glad he had chosen to do so.<br>Eventually, a single wolf remained, furiously wild. The three remaining recruits circled it, waiting for its move. In taking a step back, the club wielder rolled his ankle. The sudden movement attracted the wolf's attention. It leapt at his throat wildly, tearing away his skin and knocking him to the ground.  
>Swiftly, Sephiroth stepped in and killed the wolf, tossing its body away with the movement. He sighed, looking down at the recruit.<br>"One of you could have killed that animal," he said, addressing the two standing recruits.  
>"That would not have been a challenge. The real test...is the mercy kill."<br>The swordsman looked over at his partner, who looked straight ahead.  
>Their leader continued, "This man is going to die. Even with a Cure, the damage to his arteries is too severe. He will either bleed out, or be dragged off by whatever wolves are left. Either is far worse than what you can do for him."<br>The victim lie on the ground, choking between sobs, attempting to plead for his life. He stared up at Sephiroth and shook his head as much as possible, his eyes wide with terror.  
>Still, the swordsman stared, turning back and forth between his dying comrade and his impromptu partner. Blood sputtered from the tears in the victim's throat, poured from his mouth as he gasped for air. The swordsman shook his head in disbelief, ill-prepared for such a task. He watched as his partner's hand twitched, then slid to his hip, where no holster rested.<br>Sephiroth simply waited, letting the dying man suffer at the inaction of his peers. Twin Blades looked to the swordsman for a gun, and found none. He motioned at their hips to Sephiroth.  
>"I suppose you'll have to find another way," he replied.<br>"You want us to torture him even more?" the swordsman cried. "Just shoot him! It's the fastest way!" he said, beginning to tremble with anxiety. "General, please! Just shoot him!"  
>Sephiroth did not move. Twin Blades shook his head just slightly from beneath his helmet, and walked up Sephiroth and the dying recruit in front of him. Sephiroth's head leaned back coolly, waiting for the recruit's choice of weapon. His trainee holstered the blades while looking down.<br>In a single, blindingly fast movement, Twin Blades turned to Sephiroth and pulled the black pistol from the holster under his arm. Two shots fired into the dying recruit's forehead before a single blow knocked the shooter unconscious. At this, the swordsman quickly removed his helmet and vomited.

Twin Blades came to, facing the ground, on the shoulder of the swordsman. A tap to the back let him know that no more carrying would be required, and the swordsman dropped him.  
>Scuffling up from the ground, Twin Blades was verbally assaulted.<br>"Are you insane, man? He could have killed you! Who just reaches out and takes a gun from Sephiroth? SEPHIROTH, you idiot. You're lucky you came to at all."  
>Twin Blades shrugged, walking alongside the swordsman, following Sephiroth up a steep hill.<br>"I mean, don't get me wrong, I think you did the right thing. But god, did you do it in a crazy way. You'll never make it into SOLDIER now, you know. That sucks, but he'll never recommend you."  
>Another shrug.<br>"You're right. That was bigger than getting into some military faction. That was a man's life. That...that was a life. He'll never see his family again, and I almost let him just bleed out on the grass. I almost let a pack of fucking dogs eat him alive. I couldn't bring my blade down on him for his own sake."  
>Twin Blades sighed as the other quickly unraveled.<br>"I just stood there. I just let it happen. You took the risk. You did what needed to be done. I did nothing. NOTHING!"  
>Sephiroth stopped abruptly and turned around, glaring at the young man.<br>"Should we stop for this meltdown, or will it be quick?"  
>"Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Nope, I'm not... I'm not just standing by. I'm not doing that. That man died before even making anything of himself."<br>"Common. Back down the mountain, Recruit. I'll call in a rescue for you."  
>"No, no, no. I'm not doing that. I'm not quitting. I'm making it. I'm making something of myself," he argued. In a flash, the Masamune threatened his neck.<br>"You'll go back, or I'll consider you a threat." Green eyes burned into the helmet.  
>Before his next breath, the young man turned on his heels and walked away, back down the hill toward the bodies of his fellow recruits, sobbing.<br>Sephiroth turned to Twin Blades and crossed his arms. "So. I'm left with you. Excellent," he admitted dryly. "Let me at least see your face, so I can identify your body later."  
>The helmet slid off smoothly, revealing a lean, sharply angled female face. Lavender eyes glared into green through a furrowed brow.<br>"Well, I'll certainly remember that one. How did you get in here?" he asked pulling his phone from his coat to call off the assessment.

"Sir, I have every right to be here. I was assigned to this assessment."

"By whom?"

"Tseng."

"You're here for the Turks?" he asked, frustrated.

"There was nowhere else for me to go...Sir. But I have trained with these men for the last year and excelled. I am just as capable as they...if not more, Sir."

"You _are_ still alive. Alright, tell me something."

"Sir."

"Why did you take my gun? You knew you wouldn't get away with it."

"Permission to speak freely."

He nodded. She relaxed, looking him in the eye.

"I am not an animal. I was not about to cut that man apart for anyone's satisfaction when more humane, and more efficient, options existed."

He let out a single, low laugh and shook his head. "Gods. You _are_ a Turk. Alright," he said, beginning the trek again, "don't expect any special treatment, Recruit."

"That's why I kept my headgear on, Sir. I'm not looking for special treatment."

"We'll see. Name?"

"Marx, Sir."

Night came at the top of the mountain, bitter cold and pitch black. As usual, Sephiroth assembled the thick fabric tent in a matter of minutes, leaving Marx to her small fire outside. The challenge provided by the elements was all part of the assessment, a fact she'd come to terms with days before. As a novelty case, though, she was not surprised when the tent opened slightly, and black-clad arm waved her in.

She grabbed her silver packaged meal-ready-to-eat and headed toward the tent. Upon ducking inside, she felt the warmth of a battery-powered heater at the center of the spacious covering. An appreciative sigh escaped her from beneath her helmet.

"Take it off. I don't trust you if I can't see your eyes," he commanded. She obliged, setting the bulky piece of equipment on the ground next to her, then warming her hands over the heater. Her eyes were distant with exhaustion, but drew his attention.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Cosmo Canyon, Sir," she replied tiredly.

"Your eyes. Were you born like that?"

She suppressed a laugh at the question. "Yes, Sir. They've always been that color."

He nodded to himself and sat back.

"What about you? What color were yours...before?" she asked timidly.

He scoffed and waved off the question dismissively. "There was never a 'before.'"

The cryptic answer left her silent, occasionally daring to glance up at him.

"Don't get too comfortable. I only brought you in to let you know we'll be heading for the reactor at first light. I will not wait."

She bit the inside of her lip and nodded, picking up her helmet.

While curled in on herself, sleeping lightly in the freezing mountain air, Marx dreamt wildly. Images of home came to mind: the golden sun warming her skin, a full stomach after her mother's Sunday dinner, the embrace of a comfortable bed. The images turned colder, darker. They changed to mountains; dying, bloodied men; starving through subzero, blackened nights. She dreamt of lying on the ground in a light mountain snow. A shadowy figure towered over her, faceless.

Suddenly, she became the figure, looking down on herself. She knelt as the shadow, and placed a black-gloved hand against her own arm. From the ground, she did not move. As the shadow, she felt unsatisfied, overwhelmed with curiosity. Her opposite hand peeled away the black glove, revealing a strong, calloused hand, with small tattoo just below the thumb: 1.

She reached the bare hand down again. Upon connecting with the bare skin of her exposed wrist, a blinding light flooded her vision. The scenery changed instantly: she stood in front of Shinra Manor, back to back with a smaller body. In her large hands, the Masamune. Her veins pumped adrenaline, tinted with undeniable fear. Lightning flashed across the sky, she whipped around, ready to attack. Her opponent: an older, paler, stronger version of true self in a trademark blue suit, a black shirt, a long knife in each hand, pointed at her elbows, ready to lunge. Another flash of lightning, and she was face-down on the ground, watching blue pants and black shoes walk away from between strands of silver hair.

Marx woke with a start, sitting up straight at the vivid intensity of her dream. She shook her head and reached for her canteen, attributing her overactive imagination to dehydration. Her right arm was chilled to the bone, accidentally left exposed in the cold air. As she pulled down her sleeve, she scanned her surroundings. All felt normal, until her violet eyes fell upon the set of large boot prints in the light layer of snow that led directly to her position.

Waking up before dawn should have meant making the remainder of the trip in the company of her commander. It did not. He was long gone.

In the hazy darkness of morning, she packed her few belongings and raced to catch up with Sephiroth. She ran for a mile before finally reaching him just outside the entrance to the Nibel reactor.

"You made it. I'm impressed," he said, without turning to look at her as she panted behind him.

"Sir, you said first light. I awoke before dawn," she explained, hiding her irritation behind her deep breaths.

His response nearly brought her to her knees. He turned, and brought the Masamune to the edge of her neck. It whispered violent threats against her skin.

"You think you can kill me," he said factually.

"Sir, not at all! I don't know what you're talking about," she quickly replied, frantic.

"I welcome the advance. I can assure you, it would prove no challenge," he explained, his gaze distant and frigid.

"I don't want to fight you, Sir," she exclaimed again.

"You cannot truly believe you would even come close, if I did not permit it."

"Sir, I don't!" she agreed, trembling, yet angered by the accusation.

"I'll give you the chance that few men have ever been offered." He tossed the massive sword off to the side and pulled his jacket apart, baring his chest. "I dare you."

"I'm not going to do anything. I don't know what this is about."

She caught his eyes widen, and time slowed. He approached on her right, a powerful arm swinging at her face. She instinctively ducked. He missed, and swung again, catching her ribs.

"Stop!" she coughed out, with a surprising amount of blood. "I'm not a threat! Sir! I haven't done anything wrong!"

Another gloved fist swung from the left. She jumped out of the way, impressing even herself with her speed.

"You are no match. You will never be a match..." he growled, coming at her again.

Self-defense set it as she realized he was willing to kill her for no reason. She pulled her blades from their holsters. He moved too fast to catch, so she simply evaded as many swings as possible. A particularly rough punch to the back knocked her forward onto her knees, where she stayed, waiting for his next move.

Surprisingly, he stopped in front of her and watched her wipe the blood from her mouth.

"Angry? Ready to make your move?" he taunted.

"I have no move to make. I am here for assessment, not to assassinate anybody."

"Then this is your assessment, Recruit. Come and get me." He had begun to enjoy toying with her.

She shook her head, staring at the ground. "That's not the assignment."

"It is now."

Her toes curled as she prepared herself to lunge into her own death. "Why do you feel threatened? I am nothing to you. You don't know me. I have no reason to want you dead. I DON'T want you dead. And yet, your insecurity drives you to _this?_ Can you not accept that the only member of your party to survive unscathed is a_ woman_?"

"Don't bother playing your mind games. They will never work on me."

"It's not a game. I just want to know why you see me as a threat." Holding onto her knives for dear life, she made her move, lunging forward, flying at him from the ground.

Her right knife crossed her body in her blur of speed, lining up with his left shoulder. Her left hand lined up with the side of his neck. Long, tired legs propelled her past him, dragging the blades through his coat and into his skin. In the instantaneous moment that she passed, her eyes locked into his own, and a grin of approval spread across his thin lips.

.

Bright light brought her to consciousness in Midgar General Hospital.

"There she is," a familiar voice called. As her vision cleared, the form came into focus.

"Tseng..." she groaned. "What the hell?" Pain accounted for the overly casual tone she used with her potential employer. He let it slide.

"You're on quite a few pain killers right now. You have three broken ribs, a fractured ankle, a fractured pelvis, and probably a concussion."

She coughed, and winced at the pain. "How did I get here?"

The hints of a smile showed on Tseng's normally stern features. "The General carried you in on his shoulder, dumped you in the E.R."

"That's nice. When can I get back into recruit training?" she asked, knowing she failed the assessment by ending up in the hospital.

"That won't be necessary. You'll be training with a new group. Upon the General's highest recommendation, on behalf of President Shinra and myself, I'd like to welcome you to the Department of Administrative Research."

Confusion mixed with elation, dizzying Marx. "Wha...What did you just say?"

"As of this morning, Marx, you're a Turk."


	4. Replacement, part 1

The three knocks on the door were more of a formality: the key was already in the lock. Upon hearing no reply, she turned the knob and entered the massive apartment. The orange sunrise gave a near-heavenly glow to the place. Each morning, she sat on the wide balcony, basking for a good fifteen minutes in the morning sun before a buzz on her cellphone told her to wake her charge.

As usual, she started a pot of coffee, more for herself than the apartment's resident, and headed for the huge double doors that led to the bedroom. They opened silently under her practiced pressure, and she walked into the blackened room, sunlight flooding in with her.  
>An expected groan of disapproval came from the thick mass of blankets in the oversized bed. Quietly, she paced across the room, and opened the curtains to the floor-to-ceiling windows. A pillow flew through the air at her head. She caught it, and placed it on the foot of the bed.<br>"Good morning, Rufus," she said in a singsong, teasing voice, her eyes playful behind square, silvery sunglasses. "You have coffee waiting for you."  
>"Screw off," he answered groggily.<br>Her sharp canines shone in the sunlight as she smiled.  
>"You won't want to be late today," she warned lightly. He buried his head beneath his pillow.<br>"I'm not kidding. This is a big day for you," she repeated the idea.  
>"No good comes from waking up at this ungodly hour," he muttered back.<br>Patiently, she circled around the bed and sat on the edge closest to him.  
>"I couldn't agree more. I woke up an hour ago, and here I am, faced with the definition of 'no good.'" Her joke fell on deaf ears. "Please don't make me force you."<br>"One more hour. Please," he called, resorting to begging.  
>"I can't. Not today. Are you wearing anything under there?" she asked, standing.<br>"Marx, no, don't," he pleaded, eyes closed tightly, clinging to the blankets for dear life.  
>"Get up, or I'll find out for myself."<br>He lay still.  
>A heavy sigh was the only warning, and it was one he did not heed. Seconds later, the bedding was pulled off of him and thrown onto the floor. He wore nothing but gray boxers, and curled in on himself for warmth, a closed-eyed scowl contorting his face.<br>They had played this game for nearly a year. She came in each morning, and often brought him softly into the world of the living. On special occasions, his wakeup call was less gentle. This was a special occasion.  
>"Rufus. Come now," she called, tucking the hair of her A-line bob behind her right ear. Her arm reached across the bed and hooked around his bent knee, just before pulling him to the edge of the bed. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, his hair a wild blond mess. As he opened his eyes for the first time, he saw his loyal Turk bodyguard, Penelope Marx, smiling falsely down at him.<br>"Good morning," she said once his eyes had opened sleepily.  
>She had not expected what came next, though it was not the first time it happened. With lightning speed, his arms snaked around her torso and yanked her onto the bed. She protested wildly, pushing him away with as much force as possible.<br>"Oh, dammit, Rufus! Don't you dare. Don't you dare!" she warned, trying prevent him from straddling her waist, and failing. He suddenly towered above her, a sly, toxic grin on his face. Any other victim may have sensed the coming of Death. She writhed just as much, though, knowing his weapon of choice.  
>"I am not a plaything, Rufus Shinra. If I tell your father about this," she said, knowing the threat was hollow.<br>He attacked, his fingers digging into her ribs in just such a place that she could not defend herself, and instead, she clawed at his arms wildly, howling in angry, helpless laughter. A wide smile spread across his mouth at her tortured laughter. He eased up on his attack, but pinned her arms to her sides, resting his knees on top of her hands.  
>"Good morning, Penelope."<br>"You're an ass. You're a power-hungry, maniacal, chauvinist animal," she said factually, adding no emotion to her tone of voice.

"I love when you talk to me like that..." he said playfully, enjoying his position over her.

"You love abusing me. You love the thought of lording power over me. Though, we both know I could drop you to the floor without batting an eye."

"That must be what makes it so exciting. You could. But you wouldn't," he said, before bending at the wait and lying down on top of her, still pinning her arms with his knees. His arms bear hugged her shoulders.

"So you already know what's happening today," she concluded from his behavior.

"Actually, I don't. I was just feeling generous this morning. Women all over Midgar would kill for your position right now."

"I'm sure."

He rolled off of her and onto his back, stretching his arms over his head. She sat up and immediately straightened her appearance.

"So tell me. I'm sure I'd rather hear it from you than any of those talking heads..." he said.

She began walking out of the bedroom to prepare a cup of coffee. "You're getting a new bodyguard."

The words lingered in the air long after she was gone. The smile on Rufus's face faded as he digested the information. The room suddenly felt cold.

.

"I don't want a new bodyguard," Rufus said matter-of-factly, picking up his sugared coffee from the counter. Penelope shrugged.

"I don't know what to say. I'm moving on to field work. They must need my skills out in the real world," she explained. He wasn't hearing it.

"We have a good system going. You've been working for me for a year now. I'm comfortable, I trust you. I don't want to have to rebuild that relationship with someone else. I'm calling Tseng."

"Don't bother. It's already done. You're meeting my replacement at noon today. I've met him once, briefly. You'll like..." her word trailed as she reconsidered her replacement's personality. "He'll do."

"You're okay with this?" he asked, not realizing the selfishness of his words.

"You're asking if I'm okay with a promotion? Yep. I'm okay with it. I'll still be around HQ. You'll see me all the time," she said, avoiding calling him out for his childish reaction.

.

The heavy wooden doors to the conference room swung open slowly. Rufus stepped in first, immediately laying eyes on a trim redhead seated at the end of the long table. He noted his barely tucked-in shirt and wrinkled suit jacket and rolled his eyes. Penelope stepped in behind him and put her arm around his shoulder protectively.

"Rufus-Sir," she corrected, not wanting to give the newcomer any ideas about familiarity with his employer, "I'd like you to meet my replacement, Reno Sinclair. He is specially trained in hand-to-hand, an excellent shot, and was hand-picked for this position."

"By whom?" Rufus said dryly, right in front of Reno. Penelope's hand tightened to a painful grip on his shoulder.

"Me," she said through her teeth.

Reno jumped up from his seat and extended his hand to Rufus, who shook it unenthusiastically.

"How long has he been a Turk?" Rufus asked Penelope. From behind Rufus, she nodded for Reno to answer, refusing to be so rude to her replacement.

"Almost a year, Sir. I've been training SOLDIERs, mostly, in the firing range. There hasn't been much room for me up here, until now."

Though his voice was energetic, the huskiness to it aged the Turk in a way his appearance could not. His smile was warm, and an inherent playfulness emanated from him. During the previous week's interviews, he had made Penelope laugh more than any of the other men in the lower company, and, though he was certainly qualified for the job, his humor had been the deciding factor in bringing him on board. Not only would she love working with him in the office, but watching him torment Rufus would be more rewarding than any promotion she could have earned alone.

"So, you've read through the paperwork, you know the schedules. You'll shadow for a couple days, and then take over on Monday," she explained over Rufus's shoulder. "Lucky for you," she continued, "there's a public benefit tomorrow night, high security, the whole lot. You get to see everyone in action."

"Actively doing nothing," Rufus added.

"Well, that's the point," she replied to the sarcastic comment. "We don't _want_ to have to do anything. Of course," she added thoughtfully, "90 percent of that security is for the president, but we'll still get you in there to see how everything works."

Rufus bristled under the mention of his father's precedence. A year of working with this young man had left Penelope with an arsenal of emotional jabs.

"Looking forward to it," Reno said, ignoring the icy glare coming from Rufus.

"You'll want to get a tux before then," she suggested.

"And, good god, get it pressed," Rufus added coldly.


	5. Replacement, part 2

The following night, a white limousine pulled up to the red carpet outside of the Shinra HQ. People from all across the top plate had come to see the arrivals of Shinra's finest. As had become the usual, Rufus's date was the youngest daughter of the second-wealthiest family in Midgar. She was an attractive, though unbearably naive young woman. The secretive jokes made at her expense were endless, and always served as a bonding experience for the Turks. Tonight was no exception. In the luxurious vehicle with Rufus and his date, Katherine, was another hollow couple, Reno and Penelope, who had paired up for the event as a work requirement. The two Turks sat across from one another in the car making loaded eye contact every time Katherine made a comment that showed her genuine ignorance of the world around her. More than once, a look in Rufus's direction had forced the pair to suppress laughter.

"We should get out first," Penelope told Reno, setting up an entrance for Rufus. Reno opened the door, straightened his tux jacket, and extended a hand to Penelope.

As she stepped out of the car, photographers' flashes blinded Reno's unaccustomed eyes. She smiled and muttered into his ear.

"These idiots have no clue who I am. They'll be so disappointed to have taken so many pictures of a simple Shinra employee."

He laughed, though somehow felt that the photography was warranted as he looked down at her slim-fitting, velvety black gown, with a slit that displayed most of the toned length of her left leg.

"Maybe they think you're Katherine. Your dress is certainly more impressive," he said, stepping away from the car, but keeping his eyes on the open door.

As Katherine stepped out to a flood of flashbulbs, Penelope lowly replied, "I just have to open my mouth. They'll know the difference."

The crowd went expectedly wild as Rufus stepped out behind Katherine, placing his hand on the small of her back. At Penelope's command, Reno led the couple into the building. Penelope took up the rear, her eyes constantly scanning the crowds on both sides of the entrance.

More photographers waited inside, though they were of a more professional caliber, taking photos for Shinra Inc. and major newspapers of the couples as they arrived. Rufus was photographed several times with Katherine before a strong arm pushed Penelope in front of the black and white backdrop. Looking past the photographers, she realized that the forceful arm belonged to Tseng, who was, naturally, looking away.

Sticking with the tradition of taking unusable photographs, Penelope grabbed Reno and dragged him into the frame with her, spinning him and herself around, facing the backdrop. The photographer, who was used to these ridiculous poses, snapped a shot of Penelope pointing to an invisible mark on the backdrop over their heads, and the back of their heads as they looked up at it.

Upon stepping out of the photographers' crosshairs, Reno noticed Tseng nodding in approval.

"What the hell was that?"

"We'll have to pick it up at the end of the night. That's a keeper."

Within seconds, the pair had caught up to Rufus and Katherine as they worked their way to the banquet hall. Penelope caught Katherine look back at her with a bitter look on her face, and smiled broadly back.

As Rufus entered the elegantly decorated hall, Penelope took Reno's arm and split off in another direction, heading toward the stairs that led to the empty balcony surrounding the room.

"So, up here, we have four eyes at all times, one on each side, of course. I'll introduce you, though I bet you've already met these people. They're our grunts."

"Ouch," he unthinkingly replied.

"Nah, it's nothing like that. Most of them prefer this kind of stuff- out of the spotlight, behind the scenes kind of work. The pressure of the public eye isn't for everyone. I have a feeling I'll be a grunt, too," she explained while they climbed a dark staircase.

"Really?"

"I've been forced into the public eye for the last year with Rufus, but I don't care for the attention. I just want to do my job. I'm not looking to be a celebrity, you know."

"Sure. I respect that."

"This is our other main hand-to-hand man," she said as they approached a bald, dark bespectacled man with several ear piercings. The tall man turned toward the pair and nodded.

"Ms. Marx. A pleasure to see you again," he said, kissing the back of her hand.

"It's the dress, isn't it?" she replied, arching an eyebrow skeptically. A smirk and nod was her answer.

"This is Reno," she said casually, motioning toward the redhead. "Reno, Rude."

They shook hands and looked back out over the gala happening below.

"Is Si up here?"

Rude nodded across to the opposite balcony. While peering across the distance, Penelope noticed a general movement of the crowd toward the banquet tables.

"Lord, they're actually running on time. The dinner is starting soon. Come on," she said, leading Reno around the balcony. She introduced him to three other Turks, including a younger woman with bright auburn hair. Reno forgot her name before they reached the steps, but could not get over how young she seemed.

"Where do we sit?" Reno asked as they descended the stairs. Penelope laughed.

"We don't sit. The balcony eyes always take over for the meal. We take the only break we'll get all night...in the kitchen. I know the chef. I make a habit of knowing the chefs, and I advise you to do the same."

As Shinra executives began making speeches, the large metal doors to the kitchen swung open. Immediately, Reno noticed his boss, Tseng, sitting on a clean metal counter with a plate in his lap.

"Evening, Sir," Penelope greeted. "How is it?"

"Exceptional. As I've come to expect," he replied, clearly enjoying his meal.

"Ms. Penelope!" a large Wutaian man shouted. He wore a black chef's jacket and a broad, toothy smile. "Such a pleasure to see you, Miss. I wondered if you would come tonight. Beautiful! This dress! You glow! And your friend, here?" he inquired, looking at Reno.

"Juno, this is Reno. He'll be taking over for me with Mr. Shinra," she explained, waiting for the outburst.

"No! I cannot let you go, Miss Penelope! You must promise to come see me!" the large chef cried in dramatic sorrow.

"Of course I will, Juno." She turned to Reno. "He's going to take over Grey Haus soon. That old kook running it is givin' up the ghost any day now, and Juno is going to sweep in and revive it. Isn't that right?" she asked, while Juno prepared two plates especially for his guests.

"Oh, maybe if we're lucky. We'll see, maybe. You enjoy this, now," he answered, handing over two plates of Pirozhki, fresh spinach, and wonton wrapped shrimp.

"You do look nice tonight, Marx," Tseng said from his perch.

"Is that why you insisted on the photo? I hope they got one of you, in your fancy tux," she patronized, tugging at his lapel. He smoothed it out immediately.

Reno hung back and watched his partner as she interacted with their boss, joking playfully and even eliciting a couple laughs from the stern man. Before long, she was kissing Juno goodbye and following Tseng out the kitchen doors. She hung back at the entrance to the grand ballroom.

"Do you know how to dance?" she asked, looking out into the room from the shadows.

He chuckled. "I didn't see that in the job description."

"Oh, there is _so_ much they leave out," she replied. "Don't worry about it."

The center of the room had been cleared, and a retro band had set up on a small stage at the front of the room. As the first song started, several couples made their way to the dance floor. Penelope's eyes fell on the large golden birdcage in which the guests placed their monetary donations to the night's featured organization. Even she could not recall the recipient of the money on this night.

Penelope pressed a gem on her bracelet. "Marx check," she said. Reno heard it in his microscopic ear piece. Then, the rest of the team.

"Rude check."

"Tseng check."

"James check."

"Drake check."

"Cissnei check."

A light backhanded slap to the shoulder cued him to announce himself. He pressed the face of his watch

"Reno check."

"Alright. Shall we?" she said.

"Why don't you use your first name?" he asked, as they entered the festivities of the ballroom.

"Simple. Takes too damn long to say it."

He laughed and nodded at the valid point. Within a minute, they were approaching Rufus.

"How was dinner?" Penelope asked.

"Edible, for once," he replied glumly. Katherine, who never left his side, laughed loudly.

"You take that back. Juno is a culinary mastermind. You have an unsophisticated palate," she chastised playfully. His date pulled her head back, surprised that Rufus allowed his employee to speak to him in such a manner.

"Well, go dance, you two. Have some fun," Penelope suggested. Katherine nodded and pulled him away, but not before he could cast a dark glare in his bodyguard's direction.

"You guys really have a good relationship," Reno commented.

She sighed, scanning the faces around Rufus. "Oh, trust me, it took some time to get here. He didn't trust me at first. He thought I couldn't protect him if the time ever came to do so. Wouldn't let me in his apartment. Wouldn't let me do my job at all, basically."

"What happened?"

"Tseng explained how I was brought into the company."

"So it _is _true. _You're_ that woman," he said with clear enthusiasm. "Your story has floated around the training facilities, you know."

"Don't believe it. It's not nearly as glamorous as they make it."

He laughed. "I don't think it matters at this point. The story has taken a life of its own. What really happened? If you don't mind my asking..."

"He carried her into the hospital over his shoulder," a deep voice answered from behind. Tseng stepped into view next to Penelope.

"She had broken ribs, a fractured pelvis, a concussion."

"What happened to you?" Reno asked Penelope, who was distantly staring at the ground. She snapped back to the conversation, but shook her head apologetically.

"I have no idea."

"I do," Tseng said mysteriously, before stepping away.

Penelope glanced at Reno. His eyes were wide and mystified by the story. She shook her head and looked back out into the crowd. Her back straightened and her eyes narrowed. Inauspiciously, she pressed the jewel on her bracelet.

"Guide me," she said lowly. Reno's eyes raced back and forth between her bracelet and her eyes, waiting for an explanation.

She extended her hand delicately. "Dance with me. I'll lead."

He took her hand warily, and they began moving amidst the guests on the dance floor.

"Black tux, white tie, red rose on lapel, wearing white gloves," Penelope smoothly said into Reno's ear. "Talking to two men. One, silver-lined lapels, the other, a blue square in his breast pocket."

Gently, she guided Reno in a simple ballroom dance, leading him toward the golden birdcage. She turned their bodies somewhat awkwardly, positioning her back to a large group of guests.

"See them?" she asked as he looked over her shoulder. Her eyes were glued to Rufus, who was also dancing, across the room.

"They work for the drug ring that basically owns the slums right now. They buy tickets to every public event Shinra hosts. We've received several anonymous threats to the President's family, which, as you know, is quite limited."

"Threats of what?" he asked quietly.

"Abduction. They would let him go once an outrageous ransom had been paid. But not before torturing him. We imagine, of course. They could just as easily kill him."

Reno took a deep breath, surprised by the level tone to her voice.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked.

"They haven't done anything, so we can't really make a move. We watch them, basically." She wrapped her hands around his neck to have access to her bracelet. "Tseng, we need eyes."

Tseng's voice sounded in both of their ears. "Rude, you're on Reno. Cissnei, you're on Marx."

A deep voice contrasted with a high one, agreeing.

"At the end of this number, I'm getting back with Rufus. You stay here. You see anything suspicious, tell us," she said, fingering the face of the watch he wore on the hand that rested on her waist.

The music concluded and she was off, vanishing into the crowd.

"I was hoping I could have this dance," a velvety voice said into Rufus's ear as a new song began. Katherine stepped back, a scowl on her face.

"I'll just powder my nose, I suppose," she said, stomping away.

"She knows I work for you, right?" Penelope asked as Rufus turned to face her.

"Shut up, Marx," he replied, forcefully taking her hand and pulling her body against his own.

"You'll be glad to know that Sarconi is here."

"I invited him personally," he responded jokingly, "so I could have you at my side for one last night." His breath suggested several shots of whiskey.

She laughed. "You've been drinking. That's fun."

His hand slid down her waist and thigh to the slit in her dress. She slapped it away and tightened her grip on his shoulder until he winced.

"I believe I also have to powder my nose," he slurred, pulling away.

After a frustrated sigh, she followed him toward the hallway. Reno's voice sounded in her ear.

"They're on the move. Headed your way. Should I pursue?"

"At a distance," she replied. "Si, keep me informed, here."

"I've got one already in the hallway, coming toward the exit Mr. Shinra is about to take," the young woman said.

"Reno, get up here," Penelope said quickly, before grabbing Rufus's shoulder and stopping him. "You can't go that way."

"Come on. I'll be fine. Relax, Marx," he answered before stepping into the long hallway.

"The President has safely departed. Half security," Tseng's voice announced.

Penelope swore under her breath, sensing the mistake that cutting security would be.

"Sarconi is in the hallway, in pursuit," Si announced.

Penelope picked up her pace, shadowing Rufus. He entered the bathroom, she stood in front of the door. The two large men finally approached, smirks on their faces.

"Pardon us, Miss," Sarconi said, starting to pass her. She stepped back in front. Understanding crossed his face, just before he closed his thick fingers around her left arm. It was all the initiative she needed.

Her right arm swung across her body, connecting with the crook of his neck, forcing him to take a knee. As he dropped, she caught a glimpse of bright red hair approaching quickly. Sarconi did not let go, and yanked her to her knees before Reno could catch up. The heel of his hand connected violently with her jaw, while his partner grabbed the back of her hair, yanking her head backward. A knife pressed against her throat just long enough to break her skin before the butt of Reno's gun made contact with the back of his skull. Penelope jumped to her feet, rapidly catching Sarconi's partner's arm and twisting it behind his back. Her heel connected with the back of his knee, and in a blur, she was pinning him against the cold tile floor while Reno aimed his gun at Sarconi.

"You stupid bitch!" Sarconi grunted from underneath Reno's foot. "You think it's this easy? That we don't have men all over this city?"

"I know you do. And I know you're just a pawn, Sarconi. You're just doing what you're told to do," she replied venomously. Her hand slid up the slit in her skirt, revealing a black holster carrying a pistol and taser. She grabbed the taser and looked up at Reno, whose blood was obviously coursing with adrenaline. A simple nod instructed his next move.

An electro-mag rod slid easily from within his jacket and extended in a flick of his wrist, pointing directly at Sarconi. A flick of a switch and a connection of metal and skin electrocuted the thug out of consciousness.

"Now you..." she purred into her victim's ear, "you get to go. You get to send the warning that if any more of your buddies come near the President's family, the blue suits are going straight to the top, and in for the kill. You're free to go." She stood, hidden behind him. He dared not look her in the eye, obviously the weaker of the pair.

"...Really?" he asked timidly, taking a step away. In the same moment, the door to the women's restroom opened, and Katherine stepped out into the hall. A quick shriek of surprise from the young woman caused Sarconi's partner to turn around. Penelope raised her taser and fired, knocking him onto his back in a shocking haze.

"Oh my god!" Katherine shouted.

"Get to the car, Katherine," Penelope commanded.

"Where's Rufus?" she asked in return. As if on cue, he stepped out of the restroom and pulled his head back at the sight before him: two men face down on the floor, Reno holding a sparking rod, Penelope bleeding from her neck with her hair a disheveled mess, and Katherine, wide-eyed in horror.

"_Please_ go the car, Katherine," she tried again.

"Just go. It's the safest option for you," Rufus said without even looking at her.

"It's waiting at the front door. Shinra people will be watching you every step of the way," Reno added, trying for a comforting tone. With a huff of fury, Katherine stormed away, disappearing back into the ballroom.

"You're out of here," Penelope told Rufus.

"Let's go, then. I have no attachment to this little party," he replied unfeelingly.

"Your driver is just outside the kitchen door," she started.

"No, he isn't." The three turned back toward the ballroom to see Tseng approaching. "Sarconi brought all kinds of trash with him. You won't make it to any of the exits on this level. Lucky you, the elevators are still cleared. We've got a bird for you. Get a move on. Reno, I expect you'll impress us all with your flight abilities."

"Yes, Sir," he answered.

"We'll get this cleaned up. Head out," Tseng commanded.

As they walked briskly down the hall toward the service elevators, Penelope pulled her fingers through her hair. In the commotion of Sarconi's confrontation, her dress had torn at the skirt. She sighed upon noticing it and shook her head.

"This is why we can't have nice things."

They approached the elevators: two massive compartments designed for carrying deliveries to the top floors of the skyscraper. Penelope called them both and Reno turned casually to face her.

"I got a question for you," he started.

"So do I," Rufus cut it. "Three people will fit in one of these cars. Why are we waiting for two?"

"You know why," she said, furrowing her brow at his childishness. Though he said nothing, the question was mirrored on Reno's features. She answered Rufus, but only for Reno's sake.

"The dummy car. Should someone decide to go after you, they only have a 50 percent chance of picking the right car. And if they do, your guard can alert the other car so that backup can come sweeping in on white horses."

"And how many times has that happened?" Rufus asked skeptically.

"Twice. Enough to make it protocol."

Reno continued his question. "Were you really going to let that guy go?"

The doors opened to both elevators. She stepped into one and pressed the "Doors Close" button before Rufus could join her. Just as they slid closed, she made eye contact with Reno and arched an eyebrow. Her lips mouthed her reply silently.

"No."


	6. Replacement, part 3

The elevator ride was tense and silent. Rufus watched the floor. Reno watched Rufus as his cool, carefree demeanor began to crack. His forehead was suddenly glistening with nervous sweat, his jaw clenched in thought.

What seemed like hours later, the doors opened in the maintenance hall of the top floor.

"Sir," Reno said quietly, drawing Rufus back to reality. He straightened his shoulders and stepped out of car. His brow twitched as Reno walked ahead of him: Penelope had always let him lead the way, even when he did not know the destination.

The redhead had to throw his body against the metal door leading to the rooftop to force it open. Wind whipped the two men's hair across their faces. Reno's eyes locked onto his watch.  
>"Oh, don't bother counting. She's right behind us," Rufus said, watching the door.<br>A long minute passed. Reno's eyes slid over to Rufus, who swallowed hard. "Call her."  
>Reno pressed the face of his watch. "Marx? Come on up."<br>Icy blue eyes pierced Reno's confidence. "Well?"  
>A shake of the head caused Rufus to cross his arms. "What is she doing? This woman..."<br>"Sir...we can't wait."  
>"Call her," he commanded again. Reno sighed and looked down, but called again nonetheless.<br>"Marx? Come in."

Another long minute slipped by.

"Sir, we have to go. Now. I've already waited too long."

"She's a goddamn professional, she'll be here!" he shouted back over the wind. Reno shook his head, frustration growing quickly.  
>"Sir, please don't make me force you into the chopper."<br>Rufus laughed, his voice cracking with the effort.  
>"I'm leaving," Reno called to his charge, walking briskly to the helicopter. He easily climbed into the cockpit, and the blades began spinning.<br>After a barrage of curses, Rufus followed, and sat uncomfortably in the back of the small aircraft. "Call Tseng," he commanded.  
>Reno did as commanded, and received no new information.<br>"Well did she just fucking disappear? What the fuck?" Rufus shouted, the last of his composure slipping away.  
>"I don't know, Sir, but we have to."<br>Thirty seconds later, they were gone, flying over Midgar, away from the Shinra building.

.

"How did I not see you downstairs?"

"I arrived late. It's a military benefit. They thought I should make an appearance, but I can't stand the food at these things."

"You're insane for that. I'm working. Can I catch up with you in an hour?"

"I'm catching up with you right now. That's why I'm up here. Isn't that your replacement you sent with the kid? They just walked out the door. Let him do his job."

"It's not his job yet."

"Come to the office with me. I want to talk about your upcoming field work."

"What? I'm not working with your people."

"Not yet."

"I'm not an officer. I don't have access to any of that information, anyway."

"Not yet. ...I order you to come with me."

"Brace yourself. You don't hear this often, but...I don't take orders from you. I have a bird waiting for me."

"They'll be fine. They're professionals. You're wounded, anyway. You should rest. Come have a drink with me."

"You're going to get me killed."

"I have a feeling that if you leave with me, you can walk right out the front door."

"You're driving me to Shinra's apartment later. I'll undoubtedly have to talk him down. God, you should have seen him yesterday when I told him I was leaving. What a mess."

"Maybe I _should_ have seen him. I don't even know what that kid looks like..."

.

As uncomfortable as the flight had been, that tension did not compare to the iciness of Rufus's apartment as Reno stood by the front door, watching the younger man sulk on his couch. A quiet hour had passed with no calls.  
>"As soon I get the call, Sir, I'll be out of your hair," Reno offered, trying to distract Rufus.<br>"Oh, _that_ call you'll wait for..."  
>"I was doing my job," Reno shot back defensively. "I am supposed to protect you. Not you and all your friends."<br>"She's not a friend, she's my Turk, and she's far more valuable than a punk like you," Rufus argued viciously.  
>Reno's eyes narrowed. "Then why isn't she the one standing here? Like it or not, she's either already gone or on her way out. Come Monday, you're stuck with me anyway, so let's not make this harder than it has to be."<br>Rufus said nothing, but shot daggers through his glare. A voice sounded in Reno's ear.  
>"I'm leaving. Have a good night, Sir," the Turk said coldly, before turning and walking out the front door.<br>Rufus blamed the whiskey as he walked toward his bedroom, wiping a single tear from the corner of his eye.

.

The elevator doors opened slowly to the top floor of the apartment building and Penelope stepped out. As she walked toward the door to the penthouse, her eyes widened at the sight of a body leaning against the wall. Upon approaching the door, she shook her head and nudged the sleeping form with her foot.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" she asked in an emphatic whisper.

Reno sat up straight and ran his hand through his hair. "God, am I glad to see you. What the hell happened?"

"I asked you first!" she replied, pulling him up.

"He seemed, I don't know, pretty upset about your disappearance. You know, since you were _supposed to meet us at the chopper_," he chastised. "He tore me apart because nobody could get a hold of you. ...I wanted to make sure he didn't go do something stupid, without him staring daggers at me."

"Something stupid? Like take a walk?" she mocked.

"Like look for you," he spat. She sighed and straightened his collar gently.

"That was kind of you. I got held up, there was a minor confrontation. I worked it out, I'm fine. I'm going to tell him. You can go home. Take tomorrow off. Come shadow Sunday, and it's all yours Monday. You did well tonight." She squeezed his shoulder. "I feel good about you, Reno."

He sighed and raised an eyebrow. "Thanks. Good luck in there," he warned, raising an eyebrow as he turned away.

.

"Rufus? Are you awake?" she whispered into the dark apartment, gently closing the door behind her. With no response, she stepped further into the darkness, feeling her way around furniture until she reached the bedroom door. Her heels had clicked on the wooden floors, so she removed them and held them in her left hand. The door was not latched, but pushed closed. Silently, she pushed it open just enough to slide into the room and lightly walked across to the bed, her training in such silent maneuvers serving like second nature.

"Rufus..." she whispered questioningly.

The bed rustled as he turned, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. As light illuminated her face, she narrowed her eyes and turned away. He bolted upright.

"What the hell happened?"

As she looked back at him, she noticed the circles under eyes, and the bloodshot puffiness that was not attributed to fatigue. In a moment of weakness, her heart sank as she looked at the young man who had depended on her for the last year.

"I got held up, stopped at the elevator. I'm fine."

"Why didn't you call? You never responded to any of Reno's calls. He could have helped you."

"No, he couldn't. He was with you. That was his job. I just came to let you know I'm okay, and I'll be back tomorrow," she said softly, stepping out of the light.

"No...it's already tomorrow. Just stay here. It's Saturday. The schedule is blank. You might as well."

"And wear this dress all day? No thanks. I'll be back at my normal time. Get some rest."

His eyes went distant, but she read them easily and stepped forward again. "You are easily one of the most difficult people I've ever met," she said lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her arms extended, and he leaned into her hug, surprising her with his warmth. His head rested on her bare shoulder, his eyes looking lazily down her back.

"I will miss you, though. I guess," she admitted.

"You've done your job well. You deserve a promotion," he complemented.

She sighed. "You've got one coming, too. Any day now, I'm sure. And then I'll be working for you again, anyway. Reno will be great, too. Trust me."

As he reluctantly nodded against her skin, his eyes caught glimpse of a stray hair on her black dress. Tightening the hug before pulling away, he gently pulled it off of her and brushed her shoulder off.

"You clean up nice, Marx." He noticed the cleaned knife wound on her neck and nodded to himself.

She laughed at the comment and stood. "Thanks. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, she was gone, leaving Rufus alone. In his hand, a single strand of silver hair.


	7. Symphonic Delusion, part 1

"Though her time with us was short, Alexia's life was a full one. She was loved by all who knew her. She traveled the world with the Shinra company. She saw lands and people that some of us may not see in all of our eighty odd years. We should not allow ourselves to feel sad for her passing. Instead, we should celebrate the amazing life that she was able to lead..."

A line of dark suits stood at the back of the crowd that had gathered around a casket situated over an open grave. Only the varying sizes of their bodies and differing hairstyles identified the intimidating line of Turks, each in long black coats over their suits, each wearing dark sunglasses. At the end of the line stood the General of SOLDIER, wearing his full dress black uniform, black visor cap pulled just to the top of his eyes. Next to him, the only Turk to wear a gold bar pin on the coat's lapel. Both looked straight ahead, half listening to the service, half predicting the oncoming rain.  
>"Let us take comfort in the fact that Alexia is too well loved to ever be forgotten," announced the hired clergyman, who had never met the woman who now lay in the coffin. Sephiroth and the Legend next to him rolled their eyes simultaneously at the string of cliches that had poured from the man's mouth.<p>

As the service came to a close, the crowd dissipated. The Turks congregated near a line of black cars while their highest ranking member watched the casket lower into the ground.

"This was senseless. She was not ready for that assignment. He knew that," she said bitterly to no one.

"Who is to blame for her ill-preparedness?" asked Sephiroth.

"You're not going to convince me that she's responsible. She was just a kid."

"She had no business at your side, then."

His words met no response, sinking beneath her skin with a sting of undeniable truth.

"They blame me," she said, glancing back at the group of Turks on the street.

"Would they feel the same if she had been five years older? It's a natural protectiveness of youth. That's why you feel worse for her than you would for the redhead, or Tseng. I don't understand it. Why worry so much over the loss of an inexperienced youth, and not over more productive members of society?"

She looked up at him through dark lenses. "That's why I like you," she said, turning toward the cars, "There's nothing natural about you."

He exhaled a chuckle. "I can't argue. I assume they are not returning to work."

"No. PTO for a funeral. We have to get all of our mourning out in the next sixteen hours so we can be productive tomorrow."

"And you?" he asked without even looking at her.

"Drown my sorrows in paperwork. Like the dutiful Officer I am."

"I have a better idea. Be more human, take the time off."

"You're telling me to be more human? Look in the mirror."

He ignored the jab.

"A raise of your hand, and all of those Turks will get into those cars and disappear. You do not have to go with them."

Her eyes narrowed on his face, still turned toward the grave. "And where will I go?"

"You must commit before I tell you."

She sighed, and after a moment of silent deliberation, raised her hand in a single wave to the line of Turks. Immediately, they divided amongst the vehicles and drove away, leaving the cemetery empty, save for the men covering the casket, two forlorn mourners, and the highest ranking officers of Shinra's two branches. A single black car waited behind for Sephiroth, its driver leaning against its side.

"So? Where do I go?" she asked impatiently.

He nodded for her to follow him as he headed toward his car. The driver held the door open for her as she ducked into the back seat, faintly hearing Sephiroth give the order for their destination. Just as the driver closed the door behind Sephiroth, rain poured from the dark clouds overhead.

.

"It's as though Gaia herself is mourning that poor girl..." she said quietly, watching buildings fly past through the heavy rain.

Sephiroth removed his hat and placed it on the seat between them. "She's not. People die every day. One way or another, you will too."

"And you," she shot back.

He tilted his head in agreement. "Working for the Shinra empire simply propels us toward our fates faster than most."

She thought about his words carefully and, upon realizing that she knew of only four people on the Shinra payroll over age 40, had no reply.

"They make our short lives more comfortable to make up for the time we'll lose. I'll give them that," he said, finishing his thought. She considered this idea as well, as it brought up images of the brand new company cars, lush offices, penthouse apartments, and lavish parties she had enjoyed as a Turk.

"I think they make it more comfortable for us than for you," she admitted lightly.

"Your recruits come in far more intelligent than mine. And you're trusted with the company secrets. They keep you happy to keep you quiet."

The car came to a stop in the middle of the city.

"You're awfully down on Shinra today," she noted, as the driver opened her door underneath an umbrella. Upon exiting the car, she looked up at the ornate building and grinned. Sephiroth stepped out and stood beside her, nodding his driver on.

.

The black door slowly swung closed as she collapsed into a plush, red velvet chair. He smoothly slid into a large black leather one across the private room. A smirk crossed his features as he watched her crane her long neck to look over the bronze detailed balcony. Two floors below, on the main stage, the Central Midgar Orchestra prepared for an afternoon rehearsal.

"This is where you hide, huh?" she concluded, settling back into her chair.

"The rehearsals are more enjoyable than the performances. There is something so...human about the imperfections in the music."

"All this talk of humanity. I think you've gone soft."

He smiled darkly while reaching toward a glass table in the back corner of the room. His fingers closed around a crystal decanter of green liquid. Her eyes widened.

"Shall I make you a drink?" he offered, setting the crystal bottle and two ornate silver spoons on the dark wooden table between them.

"I can hardly stop you," she said, amused.

A quick stretch back to the table produced two decorated glass goblets and a small bowl of sugar cubes. With practiced fingers, he methodically poured the green spirit into each glass, and arranged the spoons, topped with a cube of sugar, atop each glass.

"Fire or ice?" he asked.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You know."

He did know, and simultaneously, they silently recalled the last time they had enjoyed this beverage together. He dropped her sugar cube into the reservoir of liquid while playing back visions of her dancing with a civilian on a bar in Junon, arm-wrestling a local weightlifter and losing horribly, and breathing fire to the amusement of her fellow barflies.

Her recollection consisted of looking down at Sephiroth from atop a bar and noticing him wink back at her, balancing on a stranger's shoulders, and making the General genuinely, wholeheartedly laugh. The sound still played in her ears.

While they thought back on the events of nights passed, he retrieved the cube from her drink and replaced it on the spoon.

"Do you have a lighter?" he asked out of courtesy. She smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Come on."

A deep laugh both warmed her and set her on edge. She could not force her eyes away as he closed his own and held his breath. His fierce green eyes flashed open, and the tiny sugar cube set alight. The unchecked tension in her body caused her to physically jerk in response. Embarrassed, she flashed a playful smile. His face remained emotionless.

"Penelope, I'm sorry for your pain over the loss of your partner." The words came from his lips as though they were simply phrases he had heard said before but did not understand. He continued preparing his drink, retrieving a bottle of water from a glass cooler underneath the table. Carefully, he poured a thin stream of icy water over his own sugar. She watched his fingers while trying to find a motive for his sudden uncharacteristic sympathy.

"...but I hope you learn from it." _Ah_, she thought. _There it is._..

"And what, pray tell, should I learn from the death of a nineteen year-old girl?"

"You are alone."

She shook her head, not wanting to follow him.

"You are the best of your breed. And no one will be able to catch up. I saw it the moment you removed your helmet in training."

"No, you sexist. You saw it before that. You just saw me when I took off the headgear," she retorted, an unexpected edge to her voice. He shook his head with a smirk.

"You're wrong. You were strong and capable, anyone could see that. But when you showed your face, you were in no way apologetic for who you were. You did not care that you had disarmed me to humanely kill your fellow recruit."

She grimaced slightly and turned her head from the memory.

"I saw the same look not so long ago, when you decided not to care that the Vice President had tried to have you killed. You survived, and turned a profit. And finally, you are trusted to carry out missions that are still beneath your ability. You should not have had a partner in Wutai. She died because she could not keep up. She died because she was unnecessary."

"Alright. You've made me feel _so much better_," she spat, interrupting his train of thought.

"I'm disappointed. You were a frightening force only months ago. And now, you are brought to such sorrow over the death of a faceless recruit? Because she happened to stand next to you? I'm not trying to comfort you. I'm trying to push you."

"Toward?" she asked, watching her flame die out, the last of the melted sugar dripping into her glass.

Sephiroth went silent for a long moment, watching his glass thoughtfully. Finally, his eyes snapped upward, meeting hers in an intense stare.

"Taking over the company. The military. Everything."

A tense moment of silence passed between them. Then, she burst into uncontrollable laughter.

He smiled slightly as she caught her breath in between tear-inducing laughter.

"Oh my god..." she sighed, running her fingers underneath her eyes, "I needed that."

He nodded and raised his glass. "To ending the Shinra reign," he toasted. She let out another small laugh before raising her own glass and sipping the fiery green spirit.

Never once did his eyes leave her face.


	8. Symphonic Delusion, part 2

The bronze railing smudged underneath her fingertips as she balanced herself, precariously dangling her legs over the two-story drop. Sephiroth watched her watch the orchestra below, her head swaying occasionally to the music.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

Her head turned profile to him, her eyebrow raised in intoxicated egotism underneath the visor of his cap.

"Why do you think I do it?"

He sighed, expecting this response. She had mastered cracking into his thoughts via questions as answers.

"Dancing with death, daring it to take the lead. Some part of you must be praying that it will," he answered from his seated position behind her.

"Sounds like you're projecting." This answer elicited a quiet laugh from him, she had used it so often. "Why would I want to die? I've got the whole world in my," she paused to carefully raise her hands, one at a time, off of the railing, and spread them out to each side of her, "hands. My ferocious yet humane hands."

"You're drunk."

"I'm inspired. You're missing out. Sobriety is no place for people like us."

She had not noticed that he had downed one glass more than she.

"Let's go to the Saucer," she suggested from her perch.

"Absolutely not."

"Let's go to the beach, then. I want to see it."

He read into her words, instinctively knowing that the ocean was not what she wanted to see.

"It's raining."

"The training facilities, then. Oooh, we're only just down the street," she cooed, trying to sound persuasive, and only coming off as unstable.

"Have I not provided you enough of a distraction?" he asked, worn by her requests.

"Your house, then."

"And where will you perch?"

She swung her legs smoothly back over the railing, and slipped off onto her bare feet to the black carpet of the box.

"I'm in weak-willed mourning. Indulge me," she commanded. Moments later, they were walking out the front door of the symphony hall.

* * *

><p>"I still refuse to believe you live here," she said, shaking her head as the heavy black door closed behind her. Her wide eyes scanned the massive penthouse, recalling the layout from earlier visits. An entirely stainless steel kitchen stood to the far right, an ebony dining table too large for one person stood on the other side of the metal topped bar. Two steps down from the kitchen and dining room, the overtly masculine living room spanned the entire width of the apartment. Square black rugs covered rectangles of the white marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows lit the space gray as rain poured down the glass.<p>

Sephiroth removed his long black coat and hung it on the silver coat rack near the door. He wordlessly removed her coat and hung it on a hook just below his own. He let her keep the hat.

"I don't. I travel too much to enjoy it. Is this not similar to your own?" he asked, surprised that she should be so shocked at his home.

She snorted a sarcastic laugh. "I honestly don't remember the last time I spent more than five hours in my place. But I'm pretty sure it doesn't look like this."

"So maybe they do not make things more comfortable for you."

"I'm a chore. They avoid dealing with me as much as possible. Living arrangements included." As she spoke, she sauntered into the living room, targeting a tall black couch. Spotting a sound system remote control on the glass coffee table, her fingers lifted it smoothly. As she strode over to the couch, she removed her suit jacket and let it fall to the floor. The gold pin on the lapel clinked in protest to such treatment, but the sound was enveloped by the heavy fabric. She climbed onto the black couch and stretched out on her back atop the back edge. With the touch of a button on the remote, the apartment filled with powerful orchestra music.

"You are a challenge," he agreed, frowning at her suit jacket, but leaving it in a spiritless heap on the floor.

"And yet you continue to rise to me," she slurred. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the laugh. It came quickly.

"...With the humor of a teenaged boy," he criticized.

"I know!" she choked out, changing the music on the sound system with the remote.

* * *

><p>"Just do it. You want to. I want you to," she purred, making another sorry attempt at persuasion. As he emptied another glass, her methods became more effective.<p>

"You're a masochist. You know this," he replied, setting the glass on the coffee table. She smiled down from the top of the black couch to his relaxed form on the black chair across from her.

"Should I insult you? Would that make it easier?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You couldn't possibly."

"You're a show-off. Manically egotistical. You think you hide it in your silence, but you're not hiding anything. You love the attention of doting young women and desperate recruits dying to go down on you just for a taste of your reputation." She flashed a look of humored, "how about that?" that derailed her serious tone.

He smiled at her mockery, genuinely amused, bearing animal-like canines. "I think you have me confused with your boss."

"Just do it. Don't make me get creative," she pleaded.

His smile faded as his eyes focused on hers. "Come here."

In fluid, catlike motions, she slid off the back of his couch and padded over to his chair, dropping to her knees in front of him.

"You should know that this only proves my earlier point. You are not like the rest."

She rolled her eyes. "I have my reasons."

With that, she rested her head on his lap, her arms lazily draping over the armrests of the chair. The corners of his lips curled upward as his hand pressed against her upper back. His eyes stayed fixed upon her as he sent a low-level bolt through her.

Her body responded by dragging her mind through every memory she possessed in a single instant. The nerves in her arms were dully warmed as she held her hand in front of her face, blissfully watching tiny sparks jump between her fingers. Sephiroth could feel the new energy buzzing through her, and quietly waited for her foggy euphoria to pass, relaxing against the back of the chair.

Eventually, she raised her head slowly, lazily turning to look him in the face. A satisfied smirk played upon her face. A single low laugh escaped him at her expression.

"You really should try it," she thoughtlessly advised, slowly bringing herself to her feet, using his knees for support.

"Oh? Why don't you do me the honor?" he asked sharply, catching her in her words. His long arm extended a small green orb toward her.

Despite her extensive training, she could not hide from him the flash of panic that rushed through her before a response came to mind.

"Please. You know I don't touch that stuff," she countered, not quite quickly enough.

"I do know. I do not know why." His eyes narrowed, burning into hers intrusively.

She shrugged it off, walking past him toward his kitchen. "Witchcraft," she replied, shutting down the topic with humor. "It's against my religion."

He stood, following her slowly, not ready to let his question go. "Did you not have to go through training with it?"

Her head disappeared behind his open refrigerator door. "Do you eat? You have nothing but canned fruit in here. Waste of an appliance."

"You avoid my question..." he noted, his voice irritatingly even.

She closed the stainless door with more force than needed and turned to face him again, a glass jar of red fruit in hand.

"I just prefer more conventional methods. You know that. I don't need materia. I don't care for it. I've gotten this far without it."

"You cannot use it," he accused, his head tilting with interest in his discovery.

She sighed, shaking her head, a frustrated smile on her face. "Stop it. Yes, I can. I don't by choice. It weakens your physical abilities. I would rather use my body," she explained, sorry to feel her buzz slipping away under this scrutiny.

He tossed the green orb at her, forcing her to hold it. She dropped the hand to her side, refusing to play his game. A silver eyebrow arched at her defiance.

Before a remark could pass her lips, a much more powerful bolt hit her, knocking the jar from her hand. It shattered at her feet. Her muscles reeled from the shock, her eyes widening at him in disbelief.

"What the fuck, Sephiroth?" she cried. Her anger intensified at the sight of a smile threatening his expression.

"Hit me back. You're holding a mastered Ice. Use it," he taunted.

Calling on her limited patience, she set the orb on the counter. "No."

An even more intense shock hit her, pushing the breath from her chest. New air scorched her lungs as she gasped.

"Tell me," he purred, his voice deep velvet, "what is your secret? Why do you have a clause in your contract with Shinra prohibiting the use of your body for scientific advancement? Why have I never seen eyes like yours before?" he asked in a tone that neared seduction. With each question, he stepped closer to her.

"I don't have a secret," she choked, her throat sore. She backed up, quickly running out of room in the kitchen.

"Why can you not command materia?" he pushed.

"Don't push this," she said, attempting a threatening tone. He chuckled in response, and raised his hand to cast at her again. The bolt instead landed on the glossy black cabinets behind her, reflecting light across the apartment. His eyes closed instinctively against the blast. When they opened, she was gone.

Amused with her speed, he turned back toward the living room and into a solid blow across the cheek from her right fist.

"My secret," she began, watching him stumble a step backward, "is that I've trained my ass off-" A strong blast missed her by an inch and connected with the chair behind her, burning a slash across its back. "-so I won't have to rely on little green rocks," she darted forward, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind him, kicking his knees out from under him, "to do my job for me," she growled into his ear from behind. A lowly grunted laugh preceded his head flying backward, connecting harshly with her face. As soon as her grip loosened, he stood, whipping around to watch her stand.

"I see," he teased, thoroughly entertained.

She shook off the attack and eyed him closely, trying to anticipate his next move, head spinning from a combination of the headbutt and the absinthe consumed not so long ago. Her brain struggled to classify his attacks as threatening or merely rough play. His eyes gave no indication of his intent.

"What do you want?" she asked, wiping a drop of blood from her lip, shoulders squarely facing him.

"So many things. I want to know where you came from, what you are capable of doing...how similar you are."

She shook her head, exasperated. "Similar? Similar to what?"

"To me," he replied, rushing her immediately after. To escape the attack, she jumped onto the glassy counter and slid across the bar, dropping off onto the opposite side.

"I've learned so much about myself in the last few weeks..." he started, stepping around the end of the counter to follow her. His target was not where he anticipated.

"Your tactics are admittedly...different..." he said, talking to only the air around him. In the brief moment that his back had been turned, she had managed to escape the kitchen entirely.

A gunshot fired from the living room, igniting his artificially enhanced adrenaline as a bullet grazed through the skin of his left arm. Upon turning his head, he saw her down on her knees, aiming his own spare pistol at him over the back of the chair.

"I could have killed you. Stop this," she commanded.

"Oh? Prove it." The chair blew across the room with the impact of a massive bolt. She slid across the floor on her back.

"I want to see the new Legend, at her limits...You simply fascinate me," he admitted, walking toward her. In the last four words, she heard a crack in his low voice that sent a shiver down her spine. With that change, she feared her friend was coming unhinged. Her life was in danger.

Carefully, she picked herself up, facing him again, but eyeing a route to the door. If she could not fight her way out, she certainly could run. Her eyes left him for a second too long, and a stunning shock paralyzed her. While she stood frozen, he stepped up to her, taking a long look into her eyes.

"I was born with Jenova cells. I never had a chance to be human. And then, these Mako injections...you cannot imagine the pain..." he explained.

Immediately after she regained control, her right hand flew at his face, fingers clawed. Barely missing his eye, she gouged four cuts into his face.

His teeth clenched, he sucked in a deep gasp. She struck again, her left fist connecting with his perfectly straight nose. He did not return the blows, and yet she knew not to stop. Another swing landed at his ribs, forcing air from his lungs. As he just barely bent at the waist, she grabbed a fistful of silver hair and slammed his jaw into her knee.

Now on his knees, throaty laughter flowed from him. "We are kindred spirits. Born leaders. Trained killers. Ruthless, even to our own." He wiped his bleeding lip with the back of his hand. "They made us this way."

Catching her breath, she stepped backward, sensing a lull in action. She privately supposed she had proved her prowess.

Slowly, he stood, testing his jaw and flinching at a loud pop. Still, he grinned as he looked at her.

"They stripped us of humanity."

She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You have not paid attention. You are numb. You defer to humor in place of emotion, pushing down everything you are not allowed to feel."

She balked a laugh. "YOU'RE one to talk about emotion. You don't know the meaning of the word," she countered.

"I know. I have not been allowed to feel, and so I simply...don't. I am not like the people who made me. Why should I behave as they do? Things are going to change. You must already know. I am stronger, faster, more intelligent, and more intuitive that anyone on the planet. I am...my mother's son," he admitted darkly.

"Your mother?" Confusion clouded her reflexes.

"Jenova." He took advantage of her lowered guard, his body a blur of speed as he overtook her, throwing her against a slate tile wall, then holding her against the cold surface with his body, his left hand cupping her bruised cheek, all before she could even exhale. Her body betrayed her training, sending a thrill of adrenaline through her as it recalled being in a similar position only weeks prior.

His breath felt like fire against her neck as he spoke into her skin. "I was not made to serve this planet. I was made to control it. And not a living soul has proven worthy of my mercy."

Stars appeared in her vision as his forearm pressed against her throat. She was only partially listening at this point, focusing on maintaining consciousness.

"Except you. The sole spirit of value. I see so much of myself in you. There is so much more depth to you than you dare display. And you, like me, stand apart, above. I was made by the cosmos to own this world. You were made for me. To stand at my side as this pathetic society crumbles under me. We can start anew."

"And if I refuse? You don't see a problem having told me all that?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Not at all. If you don't have the strength to join me, you certainly don't have the strength to stop me."

"This must be what you'd call a hard sell," she choked out. He released her, watching her slide to the floor, dark hair falling over her face in knotted strands.

"What will you do?" she finally asked, indulging him.

"I'll tear Shinra apart. They run this continent and most of the others. Once that foundation has broken, the rest will cave in quite easily."

"Sephiroth..."

"It will take time. Years, even, before I can begin..."

At these words, the whole conversation snapped into understanding in her mind. A broad smile showed her interpretation, catching him by surprise. His eyebrows furrowed at her expression.

"You motherfucker," she said with a smile. "That was good. Oh my god, you're good. 'I was made to own this world,'" she mimicked, unsteadily rising to her feet against the wall, "I can't believe you. God, I was starting to freak out. You really committed to that one. You got me," she admitted, pointing a long, trembling finger at him.

After a brief pause, his face lightened. He tilted his head affectionately and wiped a drop of blood from her chin with his thumb.

"Yes... I got you."

His admission hit her like morphine, relaxing her muscles in a warm rolling wave.

"God, how long did you work on that? You psychopath. You really got rough. We broke things," she cried in good humor, surveying the damage to the penthouse.

"Shinra will replace them. You'll fool no one by saying you did not enjoy it...just a bit."

She laughed, then coughed, rubbing her neck. As she pulled her hand away, her eyes caught fresh blood on her fingers.

"Your methods of seduction are..." she trailed, hooded eyes locking on him from her downward tilted head, "unorthodox."

His ears rang at her words as he felt himself shifting from predator to prey.

"But telling a girl that the cosmos must have created her just for you...well...you're just playing on my silly emotions again," she said jokingly, raising the back of her hand to her forehead in a swoon.

His mind raced in images, drawing up the Vice President's last birthday, the sight of her glowing with uncharacteristic femininity, and his vow to resist any temptation that may present itself. The look in her eyes whispered temptation. Her disheveled clothing, mussed hair, and the small drops of blood sticking to her skin screamed it.

His silence pushed her in an unexpected direction.

"Tell you what," she started, her voice suddenly much smoother, "You've made a mess of me. So..." He stared at her fingers as they began unbuttoning her white dress shirt. A warmth in his stomach reminded him of his human origins.

"...I'm going to take a shower. But first, I was hoping you would help me out..." As she spoke, her fingers separated the halves of her shirt, revealing a dark burn on her stomach. His eyes were drawn to the wound that marred her otherwise smooth skin. He could not help but notice the effects of her rigorous training as her skin dipped and rose softly across the strong muscles of her abdomen.

"I'm not feeling up to a trip to the hospital, and these aren't going to take care of themselves," she explained, dropping the shirt to the floor. Angry burns and future bruises covered her arms.

He tilted his head again, silver hair covering half of his face. She approached fluidly and brushed it behind his ear. Before she could pull her arm back, he grabbed her wrist, holding it in the air between them. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath at his grip that she sighed out smoothly as soon as the Cure hit her. He watched the bruises fade slightly and the burns lighten in color. She shook her head with her eyes closed and wide grin coloring her amused.

"'I see so much of myself in you,'" she quoted just before laughing from deep in her throat. She stood, and headed toward the master suite. He sighed at the unintentional humor. She heard it and laughed louder.


	9. Blurring the Lines

He knew how the Turks ended the work week. The nature of their rambunctious celebrations was a poorly kept secret. Every Monday, it seemed at least one member of the tight-knit crew could not suppress a laugh at the sight of another. Private jokes lingered quietly around the office, often surviving half of the week, only to be reborn on the next Friday night. The grins and raised eyebrows served as a secret language, strengthening the bonds between the blue suits, and successfully leaving outsiders in the dark. He was tired of being an outsider.

Only two weeks earlier, his bodyguard had been replaced without his consent. His consent, he realized, was not needed for anything. The son of the most powerful man on the planet was without any power at all. The only Shinra employees to even notice the young man were the Turks: the people who had essentially raised him. If he had wanted to travel to his father's property in Costa del Sol, his only company came in a blue suit. If he wanted to go shopping, despite having assistants to do such work for the family, a Turk came along with him. As he aged, his relationship with his makeshift guardians changed. They each began distancing themselves, as though they sensed the major shift in power coming. When he entered a room, it quieted noticeably. They began referring to him as, "Sir," initially causing him to cringe.

His current closest friend, Penelope, had come in as his guard just as the change in treatment was underway. She always claimed not to notice. The day he confided in her that he did not feel he deserved to be called, "Sir," she dropped the title forever. He would realize later that she reverted to the title only in frustration, when she wanted to grind his nerves.

Developing the close relationship with Penelope brought him comfort and a sense of belonging among the Turks. She was popular among her co-workers, and as his guard, she never left his side during working hours. If he had an empty schedule, as he often did during the beginning of her time, she brought him around the Shinra complex, visiting her friends, and in turn, acquainting him with his future employees. They sat in the training facilities watching boxing matches, ate long lunches in the cafeteria, sat in on Tseng's briefings. She treated him as a friend in front of her co-workers, causing the rest of the organization to do the same. But now she was gone.

The shift happened almost instantly. Reno was not yet comfortable in Penelope's position. He struggled to keep up with his expected duties, leaving no room for creative ways to kill time with his charge. Rufus was stiff and surly with him, and resented the rest of the team for not asking his opinion on the replacement. This attitude, with the announcement that everyone saw coming, pushed them all away. Loneliness swept in quickly.

So he got clever. Telling Reno he was staying in for the night allowed both of them access to one of the more festive celebrations of the year: a birthday. Following the fiery red hair would be easy; staying out of sight would not.

Rufus stood in front of his massive closet, his cavernous apartment filled with loud music intended to build his confidence in what he was about to undertake. He reached far into the closet and pulled out an ensemble of black, black, black. After dressing hurriedly, he grabbed a hat: a low fedora that covered his eyes at the right angle; and a gray scarf. Snow fell heavily outside his bedroom window, causing him to reach for his white coat, but giving it a second thought. Instead, he pulled on a long black wool coat that Penelope had talked him into buying the winter before. A glance at the clock told him the office was closing soon, and he was off.

The sun had already disappeared behind the western skyline of Midgar when the bodies began pouring out of the front doors of Shinra Headquarters. Cool blue eyes watched for familiar faces from across the street. Ten minutes passed, and the stream of employees ended. He sighed heavily, frustrated with his wait in the frozen street. Finally, two glass doors burst open under the pressure of two well-polished black boots. One belonged to his new guard, the other, his former. She straightened her signature mirrored sunglasses, despite the setting sun. He could hear their laughter even at his distance, and for a split second, longed to be one of them, to be close enough to hear all of the punchlines. The feeling passed as he watched three more Turks exit after them. Rude, Cissnei, and an older man named Drake pulled their coats tighter against the wind. As the group rounded a corner, entering a block of upscale wine bars, Rufus took off after them.

They continued well past the wine bars, unknowingly leading Rufus through a darker section of the top plate. After what felt like an eternity of walking, Rude, Cissnei, and Drake entered a bar on a neon-lit street corner. Penelope carried Reno in on her back, laughing at another elusive joke.

As Rufus passed through the heavy wooden door, his attention was drawn to a far back corner, near one end of the long bar. Drake was dodging shouts of requests as he scanned through an old jukebox. Locals had cleared the corner and watched the dynamic group over turned shoulders. Cissnei sat across a small round table from Rude; Reno and Penelope leaned against the bar.

An open seat beckoned the spying blond, and he sat at a table in the corner opposite that of his Turks. A stout waitress took his order, and quickly brought him a Stinger, abandoning him to his corner. Music blared throughout the bar, drawing Cissnei to dance with Drake while Rude watched on. Penelope leaned across the bar, talking to the bartender with a sly smile on her face. Rufus felt his brow unconsciously furrow at the sight of Reno watching her leaning figure so closely.

As songs played on, he began wondering whose birthday the group was celebrating. There had been no toasts, no cheers, no dedications. Instead, they mingled with each other and the surrounding barflies. He thanked the gods for his corner seat, having been unaware of the Turks' tendencies to pull strangers into their celebrations.

"Here alone, Sugar?" a high voice asked. He jumped, startled by the intrusion. Looking up, he found a young blonde woman looking down at him. She wore a dangerously short leather skirt and a red halter top that left little to the imagination.

"Yes. -No," he corrected, unsure of how to push her away. Honesty seemed the best option. He did not get the chance before she went on.

"I could use a drink. Mind if join you for a minute?" she asked, pulling out the chair opposite his own.

"I do, actually," he answered, keeping his head down. "I'm alone. I'd like to keep it that way."

She pulled back. "You might be in the wrong place for that, Sugar," she replied before sauntering away. His employees' conversation drew his attention again.

"Alright, terrorists attack HQ. You have to sacrifice one to save someone else. Who do you kill, who do you save?" Drake asked in a slur of excitement. Rufus could not hear Rude's answer, but cringed when it made the entire group laugh. His imagination was not forgiving.

"I would kill you to save Tseng," Cissnei answered confidently, pointing at Drake. He laughed.

"I'd expect that from you. All the women in Shinra want to 'save' him. I don't see the draw, myself." Penelope laughed from her perch at the bar next to Reno. She nudged her replacement to answer.

"Gods...I don't know. I guess I'd kill you to save Rufus," he told Penelope. A collective groan filled the corner. Rufus perked up, leaning forward to listen.

"No, guys, don't discourage him. I'm flattered that he takes the job so seriously. Granted, you're edging me out awfully early, but that must mean you love the work. It's clearly consuming your every thought," she told him, handing him a full shot glass. "Let's fix that."

Drake laughed, raising his own glass as Reno tipped his head back and downed the brassy liquid.

"What about you?" Penelope asked Drake. He thought carefully about his answer.

"Let's see...I'd give up Reno for Marx."

"Not fair," Reno countered. "You've worked with her for far longer. How do you know you should kill me before you even know me?" he called persuasively.

"I just have a feeling. Don't be upset you wasted your turn!" the older man called back.

Rufus sipped his drink, beginning to regret this trip. He sensed more jokes at his expense to come, and doubted he could stand to hear his own employees mercilessly roast him.

"Alright, Marx, what do you say?" Cissnei asked, swaying her head to the music blasting from the overhead speakers.

Rufus leaned further, straining to tune in to her voice. She shook her head, refusing to answer.

"You don't want to hear mine," she protested.

"Oh, come on," Cissnei pleaded playfully. "We'll understand..." Her tone suggested knowledge of an answer. Reno turned to face Penelope, intrigued by her refusal.

She cleared her throat and showed her teeth in a devilish smile. Rufus shivered.

"I'd kill any of you bastards to save myself."

The corner erupted in laughter. Rufus watcher her stand and whisper into Reno's ear before walking away toward the restroom. The redhead's smile faded drastically with her words; another shiver spread down Rufus's back. Just then, Rude raised his hand into the air and the group collectively turned toward the door with a cheer. Following their gazes, Rufus watched as Tseng coolly slid through the now-crowded bar toward his co-workers.

"The man of the hour!" Drake called, welcoming Tseng into the small party. Their leader gave a small smile and nodded to everyone who cheered for him.

"This was unnecessary. I don't celebrate my birthday," he told Drake.

"Let's be honest, Tseng," Drake started. His boss finished the thought.

"You don't really need a reason to be here."

They laughed and ordered the newest arrival a drink.

Moments later, Penelope returned, and pulled Tseng into a hug. The gesture positioned the man to face Rufus directly, causing the spying young man to quickly lower his head, hiding behind the brim of his hat. His face burned with the possibility of being identified. Suddenly, he was embarrassed at his intrusion. His legs itched to carry him back out onto the street. He did not belong, and he felt it. Standing now, however, meant drawing attention to himself. He swore under his breath, swallowed down a lump in his throat, and remained.

Drinks poured, vanished, and reappeared in a cyclical pattern in the hands of every Turk. Penelope forced Tseng into a dance, during which he removed her sunglasses to reveal a dark bruise around her left eye. The marking drew attention from all of her friends, including Rufus, who had not heard about the mission that earned her the injury. Reno inspected the bruise closely, going so far as to touch it. At the contact, Penelope's arm swung up and slapped Reno across the side of his head. Rufus laughed, drawing Reno's attention. Turquoise eyes narrowed at him, red hair falling over his shoulder as he lowered his head, trying to meet his charge's gaze. As Marx replaced her glasses, Reno turned back to the party.

Tseng stayed for an expectedly short period of time, and the whole group feigned disappointment when he bid his farewells. It seemed to Rufus that as soon as Tseng walked out the door, the music roared louder, pushing the remaining, original revellers into a heavy blaze of partying. The bar had become crowded with extroverts who did not mind watching Cissnei and Drake dance on the bar, or listen to Reno belt out decades-old rock anthems. Rufus remained on edge from his close encounter, and yet felt equally saddened that he had missed so many of these nights before. As more drinks vanished into the bloodstreams of the Turks, he seemed to sense the inevitable as it approached. By the time it happened, he was buzzed enough to prevent his cheeks from burning red.

The song blaring overhead was one of his favorites, though nobody but Penelope could have guessed, and she was too busy dancing with a tall, blond civilian to think about him. Reno had been left alone for a moment too long, and had begun to prowl the nearby tables. He landed his lax body in the seat directly opposite of Rufus.

"Come here often?" he asked, only slightly slurring the first two words. His eyes watched his own fingers grip his beer bottle instead of looking into the face of his current boss.

Rufus shook his head silently, hiding his eyes behind the hat he had pulled as low as possible. Reno's fingers released the tight grip on the bottle and spread out on the table before him.

"You meeting someone?" he asked. Rufus shook his head again, and braced for the moment of impact.

"You should come over to our side," the lanky man said, fluidly rising from the seat and sauntering back toward his co-workers. Over his shoulder he added, "We don't bite...hard."

"Yes we do! And in all the right places..." Penelope shouted in Rufus's direction, having only heard the tail end of Reno's beckon.

Rufus laughed at the words, guessing that the pair would be mortified if they knew the truth. His laugh was far too familiar for one pair of ears, though.

Penelope stopped dancing immediately, stepping coldly away from her disappointed partner, and stalking over to Rufus's corner. He stood no chance against her assault.

She tore the hat from his head, bending the brim in her fist. Her gasp pulled saliva into her throat, causing her to cough loudly. One by one, the rest of the Turks noticed the uninvited guest and fell silent, staring at the corner table like deer in headlights. Only Reno looked unsurprised.

"You...don't come out to these...types of...what the hell, Rufus?" Penelope demanded after catching her breath. She was angry, not for the risk that he had taken in coming out to the darker end of his city unprotected, but that his presence had extinguished the flame of the party.

His eyes stared only at the drink wrapped tightly in his hand.

"I have just as much of a right to go out as you do," he said coolly. The smoothness of his response was forced.

And in an instant, he was reminded why he cared so much for his former guard. She burst into laughter and pulled him up from his chair.

"Well, gods, don't sit over here by yourself. You're bringin' us down!" she joked loudly, officially welcoming him to the gathering. The rest of the group cheered as he crossed the floor, stepping into their upbeat realm.

Penelope sat him down at the center of the tables, in the middle of the party, and handed him a shot glass much like the ones she'd been feeding to Reno. Within seconds, everyone was raising a similar glass and toasting the humorously titled, "Coming Out," of Rufus Shinra. He did not care for the joke, but knew he had to submit to their humor if he wanted to stay.

At some point in the evening, Reno had gotten a hold of Rufus's hat, and wore it well. Rufus was admiring the accessory when it's new owner asked him to dance.

"Excuse me?" Rufus called back up at Reno's questioning face. He was sure the loud bassline had distorted the question. It had not. The white lights went down in the bar, replaced spinning reds and blues. The atmosphere shifted into a much larger party.

"This is a great song. It should not be wasted!" Reno called back.

"It should not be wasted!" Penelope echoed, already on her way to the center of the bar behind Rude, and Rufus knew he was missing another inside joke.

Reno, finished asking permission, grabbed Rufus's wrist and pulled him up from his seat, pushing him out onto the dance floor that had formed in the middle of the bar as patrons had pushed tables away.

"Stop! The train is riding down to the station where you lived when we were school kids..." Penelope and Rude sang to each other just as Rufus came upon them in the closely dancing bodies of Midgar revellers. He watched her surrender to the music, her eyes closing as her now-bare arms raised above her head. Rude did the same, but in the opposite direction, lowering his face to enjoy how the bass felt in his body.

The multiple drinks of the night loosened Rufus's muscles just enough for him to sway his head to the equally intoxicating beat. Penelope pressed her back into his chest, forcing him to take a more assertive role in his dancing to avoid falling over.

"My body tells me no, but I won't quit, 'cause I want more!" she shouted along with the song, her fist swinging at the air above her head. Rude pulled her into a swing-style spin, and Rufus watched, surprised at how well they danced together. As he stood in the center of the dance floor, two hands planted lightly on his hips. His stomach turned to butterflies, but his head fell instinctively back, landing on Reno's bony shoulder. The Turk pushed and pulled his waist into motion, and met little resistance.

Thin hands moved upward, and blue-clad arms encircled Rufus's torso. His nose just grazed the crook of Reno's neck, catching the dizzyingly enticing scent of sweat and aftershave. Enticing?

Rufus's head shot up as he pulled away from Reno in surprise. He reverted again to the safety of watching his friend, who now had Rude's arms wrapped around her stomach in a similar way. What the hell was this song?

"What was that? Did you fall asleep?" Reno joked into his ear. He spun around and came face to face with his bodyguard, glistening with a good time. His playful smile bared perfectly straight teeth that Rufus had not noticed before. He fell victim to the entrancing teal eyes.

"I don't know," he replied far too quietly for Reno to hear.

A wild dancer lost her balance behind him, slamming into his back and propelling him into Reno's chest. Reno laughed at his charge's expression, and kept grinning after Rufus continued the contact, closing his eyes again to sway to the song.

"It's okay for you to relax, you know. Nobody knows who you are, other than the fact that you're with us," Reno said, dipping his head slightly to speak directly into Rufus's ear.

"I don't care what these people think," Rufus bluffed. Reno laughed.

"Now you're just lying through your teeth," Reno replied, calling him out. Rufus shrugged, keeping his head down, and swaying rather closely to Reno.

"You like Marx, huh?" Reno pressed.

"What?" he shot back loudly.

Reno grinned. "You watch her like a hawk, man!"

"So do you," Rufus shot back, surprising himself with the observation he hadn't realized he'd made. Reno's eyes widened.

"Wow. Yeah, maybe I do. She's charismatic, I'll give her that. I stay close 'cause she's really my only friend so far, you know?"

Rufus flashed a smile at the coincidence, and leaned in to Reno's ear for the first time.

"Would you believe me if I said the same?"

The redhead pulled back and looked into the icy blue eyes for a moment. Then, he nodded.

"Yep, I believe it."

They both laughed and leaned closer into each other, happy to have dropped their female subject.

Reno turned his back on Rufus, initially causing a swell of sadness in the newcomer, until he realized the intent of the move. Cautiously, Rufus reached out, forcing himself to make the first contact. His hands gracelessly slid around Reno's waist, mimicking the older man's earlier moves. He pulled the slender body into his chest, and upon inhaling the trademark scent of Reno, felt immediately possessive. His arms wrapped slightly tighter, and Reno leaned into him in return. Red hair draped over his black shirt as Reno laid his head back on his shoulder, lowly singing the powerful song into his boss's neck.

"Is it my fault that the fallen embers burn down in a spiral...'round your crown of thieves?"

His hot breath sent a shiver down Rufus's spine. Shivers seemed to be the trend of the evening. He had no idea these people could have such an effect on him.

Penelope shouted out the song from atop the bar, stomping her boot. Reno and Rufus watched together as a bartender yanked her off of the bar, and laughed together as she fought her way back up, the crowd cheering at her success. As Rufus watched her jump back into the crowd, Reno gently sank his teeth into the base of his neck. The Turk was braced for a fight that did not come. Rufus had completely given in to the wildness of the night, and closed his eyes, enjoying the electricity now running through his veins.

Reno twisted back around to face him, the pair now the only two standing still in the middle of the wild crowd. Their equally cool eyes met, Rufus's hooded and hazy, Reno's intensely energetic. He did not waste his time.

Rufus could taste the spirits in the kiss, but did not mind. Thin fingers grabbed at his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as they pulled him in closer. He inhaled through his nose just as Reno exhaled, making him dizzy with lack of oxygen, among other things. His leg instinctively stepped back for balance, making Reno tower over him. It was not a familiar feeling, being at the mercy of another for air and stability. He prayed his knees would stop trembling as Reno pulled Rufus's lower lip in between his own, a smooth tongue dancing along its edge. Bodies bumped into each of them, and neither noticed.

When they finally separated, Rufus rested his head on Reno's chest, eliciting a chuckle. He breathed heavily through his nose as the room spun around him, the Turk's white shirt crumpled tightly in his fist. He turned his head back toward the bar and found a pair of knowing violet eyes just looking away from him. She nodded in agreement to Rude, and threw her head back in a laugh. They tipped dark green bottles toward one another just before Rufus looked back at Reno.

"So, how did you know where we were tonight?"

The question was unexpected. Rufus stiffened under the scrutiny, but said nothing.

"Follow us? An intricate plan of diversion, telling me you were staying home. Telling me to take off early so you could follow us? Some detective work, Sir."

Rufus became immediately defensive and stepped backward with a roll of his eyes. Reno sensed the irritation and closed the gap between them, smiling.

"Don't be embarrassed. I think it's pretty awesome. I mean, as long as you weren't planning on using your findings against us."

The corners of Rufus's lips curled upward.

"Never."

"Nah, I didn't think so."

Just then, a long arm wrapped around each of their shoulders. Penelope leaned against them lazily, her eyes watching the floor between their feet.

"So, I was thinking. This place is getting a little crowded, and I know of a really nice apartment that would be great for continuing the celebration...It's in Mid-Town, not far from the office, actually. But Shiva's nipples, it's cold outside. Do either of you know where we could get a vehicle large enough to take us all together? It was a long haul here," her eyes slid slowly up to meet Rufus's own, "remember?"

He met her sly smile with a smirk of his own. "I suppose something could be arranged. Don't get used to it. You're hardly worthy of this treatment on a regular basis."

"Understood," she said. She turned to Reno and raised her eyebrows once before slipping away just as smoothly as she had arrived.

"You shouldn't indulge them," Reno joked. "Give them an inch, they'll take a mile, and drag you on your ass the whole way."

Rufus couldn't help but laugh a bit as he typed a message into his phone. "Sounds like you've been hazed." Reno nodded with a grin and went on.

"I don't how they can take advantage of people so easily. Silver-tongued devils, all of them," he criticized fondly.

"You sound like you set yourself apart. You're not so different, Reno...Or you wouldn't be wearing that suit. Or, what is left of it," Rufus said, disapprovingly looking up and down the jacketless, wrinkled, half-unbuttoned shirt. "What a disgrace." The redhead laughed.

* * *

><p>"Sooo nice of you to give us a ride, Sir," Cissnei slurred as she stepped in the black limousine behind Drake. Rufus feigned a smile from the rear-facing seat as Rude settled in a side bench seat. Reno slid quickly into the far back seat at Penelope's shoving. She snapped the door closed behind her and stumbled to the open place right next to Reno.<p>

"Can we drive the city?" Cissnei asked excitedly. Drake gently slapped her leg with the back of his hand, as if to say, Time to be a professional...

Rufus raised his eyebrow and looked directly at Reno and Penelope. Reno turned to his seatmate, who simply raised her eyebrows in question at Rufus.

"Of course. Sure," he answered with acute uncertainty. "Take a scenic route to Mid-Town," he quickly commanded his chauffeur before closing the partition. When he looked back to the group, he found Rude adjusting the radio while Drake and Cissnei nuzzled one another's necks. Reno was listening to Penelope as she whispered lowly in his ear. Suddenly, even with the Turks enjoying his company vehicle, he felt out of the loop again. He sank back against his seat and chewed on his bottom lip. Reno belted out a laugh at some quiet punchline and crawled across the seats to grab one of the two bottles Drake held by their necks. The car filled with Rude's choice, and Penelope cheered.

"You never told us what happened to that punk that socked you," Cissnei called back to Penelope.

A notably dark smile spread across the other woman's lips as her eyes batted the question away innocently. Rufus felt a surge of new energy flow through him watching this response. He was surrounded and warmly embraced by a diverse team of trained killers. This knowledge was nothing new, but something about her obvious silence sent a thrill through the young man at knowing that these people would someday work for him and him alone. He felt drunk with power just knowing these people.

"What's behind the Cheshire Cat grin?" Drake asked Rufus, snapping him out of his thoughtful fog. His eyes widened; his head shook.

"Just enjoying the evening, I suppose."

"Lookin' awfully lonely up there on your throne," Penelope called, beckoning him to the back of the limousine. He smirked and shook his head. The music caught hold of the drunken backseaters, and they began slithering up to toward the front. Rufus could not suppress his grin at their dramatic approach. They literally had to crawl over each other to get to him.

Reno reached the front seat first, and sat down needlessly close to Rufus, their hips touching despite the width of the seat. Penelope settled for a place in the floor at Rufus's feet, and rested her head in his lap, facing away from him. He thoughtlessly wound his fingers through her hair.

Drake and Cissnei occupied one another toward the back of the car, and Rude seemed asleep behind his sunglasses, his head resting backward on the seat back. Reno sighed and leaned lazily against the thick leather seat, stretching his arms out to the sides, and coincidentally wrapping his left one around Rufus's shoulder in the process. The blond rolled his eyes and shook his head at the gesture, but his reaction was stopped short when Reno's fingernails drug lightly across the nape of his neck, sending a chill down his spine. He closed his eyes against the welcome sensation. The cushion shifting weight beneath him was his only warning of the coming nips at his neck.

Reno nibbled gently on Rufus's pulse point, rolling the smooth skin between his teeth, running his tongue across in feather-light lines. Rufus slid down the seat slightly, as though he were melting under Reno. The shift of his weight gave Penelope all the signal she needed to slide down into the long floor of the vehicle, swinging her arm over her eyes as her body lengthened. As she pulled away, Reno came closer, weaving his fingers into Rufus's thick blond hair. Rufus turned his head toward his attacker and looked up through hooded eyes.

"You're trouble," he breathed.

"That's why you came. You wanted trouble," Reno asserted, more than asked.

"Perhaps."

Reno nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his long fingers exploring his torso for the remainder of the drive.

* * *

><p>"Are we partying here, or what?" Cissnei called, relying solely on Drake for her balance. Penelope spoke up as Rufus frowned up at his own apartment building.<p>

"Si, you're a champ, but you better call it. You'll have a headache until Tuesday. Drake, I assume you'll get her home safely..."

The only answer was a nod, and the pair took off down the sidewalk, Cissnei chattering away in slurred disapproval. A black sports car pulled up to the curb and shut off its lights twenty feet away.

"I'm wiped. Well done, as usual," Rude said quietly, slapping Penelope on the back before disappearing around the corner.

"So, you're off, too, I assume?" Rufus asked his old guard.

"Well, you're home. And it's not my job to get you to your door. Hope you enjoyed yourself...Sir," she saluted coolly before turning on her heels and heading down the sidewalk. Reno led him to the entrance of the skyscraper and opened a large glass door. Instead of walking straight in, Rufus stopped short, watching over Reno's shoulder as Penelope slid into the black car. His eyes narrowed as it pulled away quickly, speeding down the empty streets, as he stepped inside.

Rufus struggled to fit his key into the keyhole of his penthouse. His hands were not responding sharply to his mental commands, thanks in part to the multiple spirits he had consumed, but mostly to the pair of teal eyes watching his every move. Long fingers closed around his hand as Reno pulled the key away, opening the door himself.

"There. I've done my job...even though you gave me the night off."

Rufus breathed deeply through his nose, catching a hint of Reno's aftershave that sent sparks through his spine. His eyes closed for longer than a blink, and when they reopened, Reno was inches from his face, a red eyebrow raised mischievously. Rufus pulled back in surprise, swiping his key from the other man's hand.

"You...could stay. On the couch, of course," Rufus offered quietly, his gaze suddenly shifted to his own hands. Reno grunted a laugh.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, crowding Rufus closer to the wall. "Are you sure you want this kind of trouble..." his lanky body pressed in against Rufus, and the younger man felt the heat radiating through his disheveled suit, "...prowling around your apartment..." his head dipped down into the crook of Rufus's neck, his words hot against Rufus's neck, "...so late at night? 'Cause rumor has it," his thigh pressed forward with just the right amount of pressure to confirm his suspicions, causing the breath to flee Rufus's lungs and blood to rush to his cheeks, "...your bodyguard is off duty."

"I can take care of myself," Rufus countered, his breath hitching as Reno put all of his weight into holding him against the wall.

"Well, in that case..." Reno pulled back, a devilish smile on his lips, "don't let me get in your way." A quick wink topped off the clever remark, and Reno turned toward the elevator.

Rufus extended his arm after Reno, watching regretfully as he walked away. Adrenaline flooded his senses as he made a last stitch effort to get the man to stay.

"I'll let you take care of me," he called after Reno, immediately chastising himself for the desperation of the remark. He shook his head, his cheeks now burning fiercely.

"Nah, I couldn't. I need my sleep. I'm working tomorrow." He stepped into the elevator and turned back toward Rufus, allowing a moment for his words to sink in. They did so quickly as Rufus recalled Reno's scheduled time off for the next day. If he was working, he was with Rufus...

Icy blue eyes looked back in surprise just in time to catch Reno flash a loaded arch of the eyebrow as the metal doors came to a close.


	10. Promises, Promises, part 1

"So _that's_ why everyone says to stay away from the labs."

She laughed at Reno's state of shock and disgust. "You're surprisingly squeamish. Had I known...I would have brought some friends to watch."

"Very funny. What do you think he'll do with the... body?"

She shook her head, realizing the distance she had kept herself from that floor. Behind her smirk, she hid the fact that even she did not have the nerve to view the newest live specimen. She had only heard that it came from the Cosmo area, and shut it out of her mind.

"I have no idea. I don't want to know what he does with any of his...specimens."

Reno held open the door to the cafeteria for her. "Good point. I think I'll continue with my 'out of sight, out of mind approach.'"

The lounge was quiet, as most of the Shinra employees had already taken lunch breaks. Penelope and Reno bonded over their unorthodox schedules, and often wound up in the empty cafeteria together hours after the rest of the company had returned to work. On this day, both had returned from equally exhausting weekend missions: She had infiltrated a drug ring. He had accompanied the Vice President to an energy convention in Costa del Sol. He pushed overcooked green beans around his Shinra Inc plate while she nursed an iced tea, scanning the large room from behind mirrored sunglasses.

"You believe she's really an Ancient?" he asked, resigning himself to the disappointing lunch and taking a flavorless bite.

"I don't know. I'm not sure it matters. Her fate is sealed now, anyway, don't you think? She'll likely live and die by Shinra hands."

"I don't know. Tseng seemed awfully protective," he argued, pushing his tray away. His phone buzzed suddenly. As he pulled it from his pocket, his eyebrows arched upward. "Speak of the devil..." With that, he stood and left the table, wandering to the far corner of the lounge to take the call.

"Who is that?" she asked lowly to herself, allowing herself to stare across the room at a short blond man talking to one of the newer recruits. Before the urge to identify him overtook her, he walked out of sight. She checked her watch. With five more minutes left of her break, she let him go.

Reno returned to the table and picked up his tray. She tilted her head in question.  
>"Avalanche is on the move. I've been reassigned."<br>Her jaw dropped slightly before she stood and lightly punched him in the arm.  
>"No, you've been promoted, idiot. The final cord has been cut, my friend!" she exclaimed, drawing several glances in the pair's direction.<br>"Yeah, yeah. Promotion seems like a stretch. I'm still working under Rufus, apparently. This 'field work' is his baby right now. He's taken a particular interest in this little faction."  
>"Please. He got the Ancient. Papa can't be far from that Promised Land now."<br>He shook his head with an amused smile. "Apparently, they want her back. Tseng says to stay on alert. Be suspicious of everyone. Who knows who they've recruited."  
>"What're they paying? Maybe I'll join..." she mused, standing and stretching her arms. Reno laughed and nodded once as he headed toward the elevators.<p>

.

The final touches to her report came easily, and she shut off her computer for the evening. As she stood, wincing at the crack of her knees, her personal cell phone buzzed once. Upon retrieving it from her inner blazer pocket, she checked the ID. Red Dragon.

"Can I help you?" she asked in lieu of a more traditional greeting.

"Heeey...Someone wasn't bullshitting. HQ has been infiltrated."

Violet eyes immediately began searching the office. "And?"

"Rude and Tseng are on it. I think the main elevator's going to be out of commission for awhile. They definitely wanted the Ancient back. Who would've guessed?"

"So what happens when they catch the bastards?" she asked, pulling her small handgun from her underarm holster and heading for the stairwell at the back of the building.

"The President wants to talk to them. I guess they'll be locked up. Worse, maybe."

"Likely. Have you left?" she asked, referring to the protocol that accompanied such an attack. The Vice President was to be relocated to protect the Shinra legacy, should a more violent infiltration follow.

Reno answered her with a silence that spoke volumes. She swore in irritation and began a long descent down the stairs. "Alright. I wasn't called for the attack, so I'll help you out. Meet me in the lobby."

Halfway down the long flight, a small red ribbon caught her eye on the corner of a metal stair. A few steps further down, an empty glass potion bottle lay abandoned. She picked up the ribbon and left the bottle.

At the ground level, Reno greeted her with a signature, Can you believe this shit? grin. She shook her head and pulled her hair into a low ponytail as she blew past him. He turned quickly and walked next to her toward the main entrance.

"Is he at home?" she asked hastily. Reno shrugged and raised his hand to the three guards at the front entrance. They nodded silently, unaware of Penelope's glare from behind the metallic lenses.

"He shouldn't be. He was supposed to be in his office all day. Not there, not answering the phone. No one's seen him. Lucky it should still be my responsibility to protect him when the shit hits the fan."

"Why drill us with this plan if he has no intention of following it? Disappearing without contacting one's team is about as far from protocol as one gets," she seethed, her jaw clenched tight, a dull ache rising into her temples. Reno could nearly feel the heat rising in her, but knew only a fraction of its cause.

An irritation with the current company leaders mixed with disgust at the reports coming in about the damage Shinra was doing to the planet. These toxic elements combined with the unavoidable sense of dread and tension caused by rumors of sightings of an old friend and created a highly unstable chemical deep within her. It inspired late nights of great doubt in her future, and the future of the Midgar. It caused a rift between herself and her co-workers. While they all knew she was more pensive as of late, they had no idea of the great struggle happening within her each time she set foot into the Shinra HQ. A great shift seemed only a single spark away. She had no idea that she would soon be cast into a fire.

.

"You still have a key, right?" she asked, unwilling to reveal her own unapproved means of access to the Vice President's residence.

Reno nodded as they approached the penthouse door. "I do. Assuming he hasn't changed the locks recently."

The key worked, and Reno led the way into the darkened apartment. The search did not take long. Reno stopped in the doorway to the master suite and let his shoulders fall. His head was not far behind.

When Penelope looked over his shoulder, she found Rufus curled tightly into a large white chair in the corner of the bedroom. If not for the light furnishings, the room would have been blackened with shadows. Instead, brave rays of light slipped through the drawn curtains and reflected off the bright white furniture. Her throat tightened as she processed the sight.

He had chewed his nails painfully short before digging his fingertips into his calves, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Blond hair streaked at sharp angles across his wild eyes. Circles danced darkly under the blue orbs, somehow making the color seem colder than usual. She was surprised it was even possible.

Their respective reactions highlighted the differences in both the Turks' personalities and relationship with the young man. Reno raised his head and smoothly crossed the room, throwing an arm around his charge's bare shoulders. Penelope fought the urge to slap that same man across the face and shake some sense into him.

"I wasn't there. No one noticed."

The cracked words hung in the air in front of Penelope, waiting for a response that never came. Instead, Reno replied.

"We're right here. It was noticed."

"It took an attack on the company. Fucking Avalanche scum had to break into the place for someone to realize I wasn't there. What is that? I'm the Vice President of this company, and nobody notices when I don't show up? You've all been humoring me. Playing nice, as ordered by my father. Gaia, who are we fooling? I don't have an ounce of power in that place."

Penelope nearly strained a muscle rolling her eyes. She stormed into the room, headed for the massive closet, and turned on the light. Just where she had left it years ago, a black leather travel bag waited for her violent grip upon a top shelf.

It landed heavily at the base of his chair. Reno took a more diplomatic approach

"But for one man, you know more about the company than anyone else. That doesn't seem important to you? That doesn't seem powerful? You have an entire department working for you. And here we are. Are we not important? Someday, everyone in that building will be looking to you for answers. That's a lot of pressure. Why not enjoy what freedom you have now?"

"And why not follow your own protocol?" Penelope asked with an acidic voice. She looked at her phone. "You have a bird waiting."

Rufus never looked at her. He did, however, unfurl himself. "He's running the company into the ground. I'll be in my forties by the time he's ready to hand it over, and the company will be in ruins."

"Then maybe it's time you start putting some of your own ideas on paper. But that's not what we need to be discussing right now. You have to get out of the city. We don't know what else that faction has planned."

Silence made the room its home. Whatever progress Rufus had made toward leaving had died a quick death.

"No. I'm staying. We've caught them. We'll make an example of them. I'll be the one to do it."

Reno's glance at Penelope said what his lips did not: What now?

The air itself held its breath while the atmosphere shifted. The sun was setting. Reno received a message that Avalanche had been captured and imprisoned. The trio had become part of the furniture, not daring to move for three very different reasons. One stood at the precipice of a defining act of rebellion. One was holding together a fractured psyche. One was simply too tired to take any initiative. Eventually, a silent decision came to fruition. Rufus stood slowly and walked toward the illuminated closet. He returned in a black turtleneck and white pants, wearing determination as an accessory. Penelope sighed and walked back into the closet. She returned with two items. The first she draped over Rufus's shoulders after positioning him in front of his full-length mirror.

"You hide in black. It diminishes you."

Reno raised his eyebrows at the display, crossing his arms.

Rufus glanced at her reflection over his shoulder. "You wear black. Are you 'diminished'?" he mocked.

"Every day," she replied in a low whisper, catching him in the glance. She noticed that his eyes appeared a shade of red that only the most pained tears inspire. The color could not cut through the ice of their history.

He slid his arms into the long white coat and reached his hands into the pockets, pulling out black fingerless gloves. Without hesitation, he put them on. She nodded once, then surprised him, reaching around his shoulder and shoving the second item into his chest.

"You want people to notice you, you better start taking yourself seriously." She ended her torture by turning quickly, glancing once at Reno, leaving the bedroom, and soon after, the apartment.

Both men watched the mirror's striking new image. Rufus tightened his grip on the shotgun.

"I like this," Reno commented, waving his hand at the newly developed persona. "I don't mind this at all. I can just...This works."

"I'm starving."

"What, you gonna go hunt something for dinner?" Reno kidded, nodding at the shotgun.

"Maybe I am. Or maybe we could go to Grey Haus."

"Grey Haus it is. I'll buy," Reno agreed, perking up and escorting his revolutionized boss to the parking garage.

.

The pair felt every pair of eyes on them as they followed a young Wutaiian waitress to a private corner of the restaurant. They ordered immediately, without bothering to take the menus from the waitress. Moments later, a pair of glasses appeared on the table, filled with a clear and undoubtedly flammable liquid. They toasted to nothing and threw them back, promising to make a night of this meal.


	11. Promises, Promises, part 2

_A/N: I got ahead of myself. This is part two of three, and is intended to be picked up immediately after Promises, Promises part 1. I thought I would finish the three parts much earlier than I did, and consequently, the first part was an awkward story on its own. I'm not sure the title even makes sense until this part. So, readers may want to skim part one again before diving into this. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Penelope leaned against the heavy black door to her own apartment, staring intently down at a piece of crisp white paper. A message had been written in easily identifiable script and tucked tightly between the door and its frame. She read the words three times over, trying to create an alternate meaning.<p>

_19:00. South stairwell B3. You have promises to keep. _

Her heart tasted bitter in her throat as she attempted to suppress the repeating flashback.

_Rufus, assigning the suicide mission, and his face upon her arrival after surviving it. Collapsing in the street, calling on the only friend she trusted to save her. The basement of Shinra mansion, though she did not know it to be so, as she awakened for the first time under his care. The deal._

_"I can heal you. Get you back to your precious work in a week's time, better than before if you so wish. In return, you must swear one thing," he had said lowly, staring intently into a pair of violet eyes that barely had the strength to look back. "Should the time ever come that you can return the favor, you will. No questions asked. You will serve me one day as I serve you now."_

_She had managed a nod, remarkably, and fought through a searing sort of pain, just long enough to flash a smirk and whisper, "Of course. You know I will. I promise."_

At the time, he had already begun to distance himself from the Shinra empire. She could not have predicted that he would quickly disappear for good, allowing himself to be declared deceased in the line of duty. He had shown up only a handful of times since his disappearance, and each visit had been more uncomfortable and more tense than the last. Finally, they lost touch completely, a wound that was slow to acquire and yet quick to heal. They had befriended each other easily, and yet tormented one another to no end. Life without him had been, in a word, easier.

And now, here he was. Calling in his marker.

She swallowed hard for the second time and crumpled the perfect white paper into a rage-filled fist. 

...

The basement levels had always rested a few degrees below the offices above, but on this night, the damp chill felt appropriate. Nearly seventy stories above, Avalanche had been locked into cells that were more comfortable than this particular area of the headquarters. Penelope shook her head and steadily kept one foot moving in front of the other.

A light had malfunctioned near the entrance to the southern stairwell, and the area flickered menacingly. She slowed her breathing and squared her shoulders, bracing herself for the appointment. The door groaned as she pushed it open.

From the entrance of the stairwell, he had not appeared much different. His long legs bent at perfect right angles as he sat on the stairs, strong arms resting on his knees. He still wore black, though he had altered his uniform some. His chest was now bare, save for the leather straps crossing in an X across the skin. She thought it looked like a target. A dare.  
>Only when he slowly raised his head did she notice what had truly changed. His skin had grown paler. His mouth had lost the seemingly permanent smirk. His features had sharpened into straight lines and dangerous angles. What sent the shallow wave of nausea through her, though, were his eyes. The brilliance of youth and promise had been snuffed out, and in its place glowed the maniacal radiance of hell-bent determination. Where she had once caught glimpses of warmth, she now shivered in the presence of stony ice.<br>"You're late."  
>Violet eyes glanced down at a thin black watch. 7:04.<br>"I can't imagine how you filled the time, Sephiroth." She was not talking about the four minutes.  
>He smiled. She tensed.<br>"I've been...busy. Educating myself, perfecting my plan. I have a legacy to protect. I descend from Ancients."  
>"Yeah? Your sister is upstairs," she shot back, fighting for a level voice.<br>"I'm following through, Marx," he continued, ignoring her quip. "Didn't I tell you? Don't you remember? The funeral, the symphony...the warning?" He stood and descended the last four stairs of the flight. As he stepped down onto her level, a bolt of electricity set her nerves on fire. She gritted her teeth against the searing pain and coughed when it seeped away. His smiled faded slightly. "You used to love that, didn't you? To feel the effects that you could never deliver yourself..." he mused. His brow furrowed. "You're softening."  
>"What do you want?" The question stopped him.<br>"The security has changed a bit. I want access to floors 67 and 70, and I'm in no mood to fight for it. After this evening, I find it unlikely you'll be able to help me. You seem rather content going down with this forsaken company. I was not going to let this favor go uncollected."  
>"Why seventy?"<br>"No questions, Penelope." His tongue played with her name, as if it knew a secret.  
>Her logic screamed in protest, but the deal had already been made. She owed her nervous heartbeat to the man, but wondered if perhaps he should have let her die.<br>He cleared his throat, jerking her from contemplation. The decision crystallized as she pulled her eyes from floor and met his waiting gaze. She would certainly not go down with this ship. She was leaving Shinra.

...

Cold silence rode the elevator with them as they ascended to the lab. She swore the muscles in her neck would snap from the tension. Sephiroth leaned casually against the brassy back wall of the car. She fingered the butt of her gun, knowing the weapon was useless, but attempting to comfort herself all the same. A bitter taste filled her mouth.  
>A musical <em>ding!<em> broke the silence, announcing their arrival. She pulled her keycard from the console as he swept past her. Then, for the second time that day, she stepped out into the lab. Down a long hall to her right, the captured rebels had fallen asleep in their cells. The hallway offered an invitation that she did not immediately accept. Instead, she followed the soft footsteps of black boots, and watched silently as Sephiroth rummaged through an array of files in Hojo's office. He browsed several pages of lab notes, his eyes growing darker with each new paper. She stayed outside the door, out of reach, but never let her eyes wander from him. Eventually, he dropped the files to the floor and allowed his lips to curl upward.  
>"She's here. I knew she would be."<br>Penelope kept quiet, a knot of dread growing hot in her stomach. He brushed by her again, this time on the way to the specimen chambers. She relied on a cold hallway wall to support the new weight of her conscience. The hallway meant safety, a blissful ignorance of what might be happening in the lab. There, she was a mere bystander, actively engaged in nothing. She tried to enjoy her innocence, but guilt had turned her keycard into a razor blade in her palm, a small weapon about to cause irreparable damage.  
>Laughter drew her from her daze and magnetically pulled her legs into motion. She approached the lab, her heart pounding, and inhaled deeply. The air left her lungs when she turned the corner.<br>"Magnificent, isn't it? The manipulative power of Jenova? With the smallest convincing, I have created something truly amazing..." Sephiroth trailed, allowing her to take in the sight of his proxy, "...myself."  
>The clone matched its maker perfectly, down to the weapon in its hand. It stood firmly in place, just in front of a broken specimen chamber, its eyes softly closed.<br>"And what will you do with this?" she finally asked. His maniacal gaze shifted from his clone to her, and back again.  
>"I couldn't bear to ruin the surprise."<br>She shifted her weight uncomfortably, palming her gun again. He smiled, the loss of his senses apparent  
>"We should test him. Her? I almost don't know what to call it..." he laughed once, having amused himself. "Shoot him, go ahead."<br>"What? No," she protested, though her fingers tightened their grip.  
>"Come on, you'll be impressed. Or do you need motivating?" He hit her again with a bolt of electricity, setting her nerves on fire.<p>

Through gritted teeth she hissed, "I'm not fighting."

He stepped toward her, his head tilted with realization. "Oh...I can smell it on you, Marx. I know what you're thinking." Upon closing the distance between them, his hands cupped her face. In exhaustion, she resisted the urge to lean into them. His eyes glowed at her from the dark hallows of their sockets. "It suits you. I only wish you'd thought of it sooner."

She squared her jaw and pulled back slightly. "And what's that?"

The strong hands slid down her neck, across her shoulders, and affectionately down her arms, resting over her own. Easily, he slid the keycard from her palm and whispered what he had detected in her. "Desertion."

At the word, she focused every ounce of her energy into making a mask of her face. A small voice screamed at her to let go of her few remaining morals and fall into his arms.  
>"When will you leave?" he asked lowly, his voice an amused purr.<br>_TONIGHT! _the voice shouted. She swallowed it down and shook her head. He shook his own in return and stepped backward, raising the keycard. The clone's eyes flashed open, and stepped past them, quickly taking the card for himself. She watched it pass without protest.  
>"Do you want to watch?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.<br>"What?" Her voice was a raspy whisper.  
>"That surprise. Or would you rather find it on your own?"<br>Before she could answer, a security guard entered from the elevator and rushed the clone. His dying scream was the only indication that he had arrived, and it was enough to jolt Penelope into action. She ran to the long hallway and watched the clone clean blood from his own Masamune. A long red streak of it had painted the floor long past the guard's body.  
>"Wonderful. Go ahead," Sephiroth commanded his clone. It brushed by Penelope and entered the elevator before she could put the pieces together.<br>"What...why seventy?" she suddenly demanded, pulling her gun on Sephiroth. He laughed again at her reaction.  
>"It's time a for a little chaos. This company is crumbling...from the top down."<br>In this striking moment of clarity, she did not envision the President sitting at his desk in the penthouse office above, nor the Board members that directed the corporation's basic operations. Instead, her mind flashed an image from only hours earlier: Rufus, half-naked, curled into a ball in his own dark bedroom, suffering a meltdown of the most dangerous kind. Reno kneeling, with his arm around a child, and an heir.  
>"No." With the single word, she was off, her legs unable to move as fast as her mind as she flew toward the stairwell. The last sound she heard before the metal door swung closed was the deep laugh of a new enemy.<p> 


	12. Promises, Promises, part 3

The door to the top floor was expectedly locked. She threw her panting body against it, delirious with her need to prevent the coming attack. From outside of her body, she watched herself scream at the heavy metal blocking her path and bang her fists until they bled. She fired three shots at the lock, blasting away her own hearing in the closed stairwell. Finally, the door gave way under her barrage. The muscles of her legs ached as she sprinted through the luxurious lobby, up the blood red carpeted stairs, and into a cryptically quiet office. A howl tore from her throat as she took in the sight of the slain President slumped onto his desk. The perpetrator had long left, his steel calling card protruding from the dead man's back. Her training abandoned her momentarily, and her knees hit the floor.

Sweat, mixed with tears and fading makeup, was replaced with a thin streak of blood as she wiped her hand across her forehead. Thoughts flitted haphazardly through a shaken mind, eventually centering on a single recurring image: cells. She had allowed a terrorist into the most guarded regions of the Shinra Headquarters, and now she had to set it right. Trembling with exhaustion, guilt, and the promise of what she was about to do, she forced herself to stand.

The trek back to the lab drained all but the energy it took to hold a single key on her phone. As Reno answered, her heart melted in her throat, the threat of tears stinging her eyes.

"How's Rufus?" she asked as calmly as possible. Her facade failed.

"What's happening? Where are you?" the now-serious voice asked back.

"How is he?" she demanded, her voice cracking with volume.

"He's fine. We're back at his place, he's fine. What's going on?"

"Can you get Tseng over there for you?" she asked, sliding down the cool wall of the long laboratory hallway.

"Of course. Penelope, please. Talk to me. What's going on?"

A deep breath, intended to calm her, escaped as a silent sob. "I need you," she finally choked.

"I'm on my way. Where are you?"

"HQ. Garage, south B3."

"Okay. Five minutes, I'm there."

She closed the phone and slid it into her pocket, pulling her arms around her bent knees and resting her head on them. A long silence gave her the resolution she needed to enter the security office and watch the members of Avalanche sleep in their cells. Her fingers reached out to the screen as her eyes closed. As she unknowingly touched the image of Cloud's peaceful face, from her lips fell the plea.

"Gods...help us."

With that, she chose to fight fire with fire, and unlocked the cells.

.

Reno screeched into a sloppy park and raced from his car to the stairwell. He had barely opened the door when arms encircled his neck and held tight. A fresh dose of adrenaline flooded his body as he pulled her tight against him. She hyperventilated in his arms.

"Gods, Marx. Shh...you're okay, girl. You're okay." He ran his hand over her hair to soothe her.

"It's...over...Reno," she tried to speak, taking several deep breaths.

"Shh, just breathe. You're okay," he offered, trying to calm her while suppressing his own growing concern.

She shook her head against him. "You can't tell anyone. Please. You can't."

"Hey, you got it." As she pulled back slightly, he looked down into her face and held back a shiver. "Now, what's over? Just tell me what's going on."

"Everything. Everything will change. Reno...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Why? What happened, Marx? Talk to me," he coaxed.

An abundance of words stuck in her throat, causing her mouth to move without sound. Finally, the only story she could bear to tell made itself heard.

"He's not dead," she whispered, her eyes closing in shame. "He's not dead."

Reno knew, even without the name, and pulled her close again. "Okay. Okay, Marx. You're okay now. I've got you," he spoke into her hair.

"He forced me to get him into the lab...and he took Jenova...killed a guard...He's gone."

"Hey, he's gone. You're alright. Let's get you home, sister. Clean you up a little."

He flinched as her fingers clawed into his arms. "Don't leave me," her raspy voice pleaded.

"Shh. I'm not goin' anywhere." 

Reno spent the majority of the drive to Penelope's apartment glancing at her face. She stared straight ahead in an unseeing trance. He could only wonder what she had seen, but the possibilities gave him chills.

Twenty minutes later, he had started a bath for her and helped her remove her boots and jacket. The spacious bathroom felt cramped as he watched her stare at herself in the mirror. As the water heated the room, he stood behind her and drew her stare away from her own face to his. He cracked a signature smirk.

"Hey, you. 's the first time you even looked at me, you know that?"

"I'm sorry," she croaked, but not for the reason he believed.

"You're okay. You're home, you're safe. You got the best company a Turk could ask for."

She attempted a smile and nodded, looking down at dried blood on her hands. Fresh tears threatened her as he wrapped his arms around her stomach and placed a friendly peck on her neck.

"What will I do without you, Reno?"

"Well, shit, what do you mean 'will' you do? I'm not goin' anywhere."

She shook the phrasing away and smiled sadly. "I know. You know what I mean. God, I'm trying to be nice here."

He playfully pulled back and inspected her head. "God, you _must _have suffered a head wound!" His smile fell when she turned around in his arms and looked straight into his face.

"I'm human, too. People seem to be forgetting that lately. I'm not dead inside. I'm not a machine. I have to be one at work, or I'm not taken seriously. But you should know that's not what I am. I'm susceptible to...overwhelming emotion, and allowed to make mistakes...I'm human," she quietly, but sternly proclaimed.

"I know that. I know," he replied, suddenly guilt-ridden for teasing her.

"Oh..." her eyes lowered with the coming admission, "I think I'm starting to forget it."

"Well, I'm not. I revel in being human, and I won't let you miss out on it. Come on, get undressed."

She watched him for confirmation as he shut off the running water and dipped his hand into the steaming bath. "Perfect," he noted. "Why don't you put some oil or something in there? Girl it up a little."

With that, he left the bathroom for the kitchen. His memory served him well as he easily produced two glass tumblers from a cabinet and a bottle of Cosmo Nectar from the door in her refrigerator. Upon noticing it had not been opened, he shook his head in disapproval and returned to the steamy bathroom. 

Penelope had quickly undressed and submerged herself in the bath. Swirling colors danced atop of the still water, a giveaway that she had followed his orders. She raised her hand in protest at his choice of drink.

"That's for special occasions!" she exclaimed. His head cocked to the side as his eyebrow lifted.

"You got attacked by a dead General. He took off with Jenova, and is likely planning an attack on Midgar. I can think of few occasions more special."

Beat, she slipped her hand back into the water. He poured two glasses of the cool orange liqueur and set them and the bottle on a silver stool near the tub. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Before long, a band she had once dared to love played from her living room's sound system. Her eyes popped open to the sound, and focused on Reno, re-entering the bathroom shirtless.

"Remember the day you told me you love these people? We were at that bar downtown, and you spilled a beer trying to dance?"

Her hands covered her face at the memory. "And you dumped your beer, too." _ To make me feel better_, she did not say.

"I thought that was the cool thing to do."

She peeked out through her fingers. "Are you stripping?" she asked in surprise.

"Well, I found it a little rude that you just assumed this was for you..." he answered, unbuckling his belt.

"What?! You said, 'Get undressed!'" she cried, barely stopping herself from sitting straight up.

"Yeah, I have a thing for tattoos. That's all," he kidded, now unfastening his own navy blue pants.

Her hands returned to her face. Seconds later, he prodded her shoulders. She shook her head.

"Oh, don't you make this weird. This doesn't have to be weird," he explained. "Look at me."

Slowly, she turned and looked up at him, relaxing upon finding him still wearing his black boxers. In a manner awkward enough to elicit lasting bouts of laughter, he slid into the tub behind her, his legs resting on either side of hers, the exposed skin of her back cool against his chest. Once settled, he reached for a glass and handed it to her, then took his own and held it in the air.

"To...I don't know. You survived, right? To survival?"

She tapped her glass to his and nodded. "To survival."

A period of deep silence followed as she processed the events of the evening and he enjoyed the memories that the music brought back. Finally, she intertwined her fingers with his, their elbows resting on the edge of the tub. Her eyes settled on a small tattoo of a red dragon on his forearm.

"I let them go," she confessed.

"Hmm?" he questioned softly.

"Avalanche. I unlocked the cells before I left."

From her position, she did not see his eyes widen into a stare. His brain buzzed with reactions, but he held them back and simply nodded once, responding smoothly.

"That's interesting."

She nodded and he sensed her slipping away.

"This is why you apologized?" he guessed. "This is what you didn't want me to tell anyone?"

A lump rose in her throat that she could not swallow.

"Well, the beauty of having a madman on the loose is that he makes a hell of scapegoat," he claimed, wrapping his arms around her stomach to help her through the fresh wave of guilt that had washed over her.

"You're astounding," she muttered.

"Oh, to say the least," he agreed, before allowing himself a moment of sincerity. "You're a leader, Marx. You have half a department looking up to you. And those who don't care for you are likely jealous of you. You're smart; you _breathe_ this company; you're a hell of a shot. And most of the time, you're tough as fuckin' nails. If we were to lose you..."

"That's very kind, but it feels like a stretch...I've been _informed_ of how..._dispensable_ I am."

"Yeah, by a fucking jealous kid who couldn't get his hands on you. A kid who had more power than he could handle."

She shivered. He continued.

"You survived, like you always do, and you kicked his ass for it. And more than a few of us cheered you on. Your secret is safe. I'm sure you had your reasons. As far as I'm concerned, you were here all night, just dying for me to come over. After spending a single afternoon with me," he began, his voice changing subtly to lighten the mood again, "you simply couldn't stand being alone. You sat there on that fancy-ass couch just wishing I would call, but when I didn't, the desire just grew and grew until you simply couldn't _stand_ it anymore. So, even though you knew I was with the VP, you called in desperation, telling me you just _needed_ me."

"Oh my god," she protested, covering her face. "'Don't make this weird,' you said!"

He rebutted quickly and factually, "You did say that though."

"GOD, I know what I said."

He grinned devilishly as he continued to use her words against her. "So there I was, at the door, answering the call of a desperate woman, and you just wrapped yourself around me. Before I knew what was happening, you were undressed- you had been drinking Nectar I think-" She rolled her eyes at the story. "And you made me swear not to tell anyone what had happened here. 'You can't tell anyone. You can't, please!' you begged. And I agreed, because how could I res-"

"Okay, you're done," she cried, stopping the story in its tracks.

"Yeah, but you said that, though."

"I think I hate you."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "There she is."

After a long pause, she finally admitted, "I do like your story better than...reality."

"Oh, I'll stick to it," he said, smiling into her shoulder.

An hour passed of several bouts of silence, singing to the music, and reminiscing about missions past. Penelope had relaxed, the adrenaline of the evening behind her. The weight of her secret pulled her features into a fixed sadness, but Reno was not deterred. He spent an hour in a towel lying at the foot of her bed while she calmly recounted Sephiroth's visit, cutting her version short for the sake of the evening. Twice, Reno's phone buzzed, causing her muscles to tense in anticipation of the inevitable discovery. Both times, he checked it and sighed, shaking his head.

"Rufus has grown curious...and demanding. Poor Tseng."

"Poor Tseng," she agreed, finally closing her eyes. Sleep swept in moments after she felt Reno's arm wrap protectively around her side and hold the hand tucked under her chin. It did not last.

.

Around midnight, Penelope's phone rang on the nightstand. She unwound her arm from Reno's and let her breath hitch in her throat as she read _Leviathan_ on the display.

"Marx," her cracked voice answered. Reno stirred behind her.

The barrage of information that followed left her frozen. Less than a minute later, Reno's phone buzzed. He groggily answered, and from her close proximity, she heard Rude explaining the end of her story.

As Reno closed his phone, she sat up. They stared at one another in silence before he finally sighed.

"It's worse than you thought, huh?" he asked.

She nodded once, then shook her exhaustion away. "We have to go."

He nodded and slid off the bed.

Half an hour later, the world was a haze as she stood in the massive lobby outside the President's office. A crew of investigators had swarmed the room and come to a unanimous conclusion. She had not heard any of the voices around her, and instead heard a foggy rendition of her favorite band playing a melancholy ballad while the world spun out of control around her. Turks whispered to other Turks while Soldiers spread throughout the building, hunting the escaped terrorists. All the while, she envisioned herself walking out the massive gates in the Seventh sector and never looking back.

"Is she in shock?" a muffled voice asked from miles away.

"She's fine," someone else answered.

Her gaze was finally interrupted by a white blur heading for the balcony and jostle of voices protesting the movement.

"You can't let him go out there. He has a company to run now. We can't put him in danger like that!" a faceless board member argued with the blue suit who had let him pass. Penelope's eyes finally focused, and quickly met Rufus's. In them, she saw determination and anger, without any hint of the broken young man he had been hours before. He held his shotgun in a tight fist and, without speaking, asked if she would try to stop him from taking on the new leader of Avalanche waiting on the balcony. She bowed her head slightly, encouraging him to lead his company however he saw fit.

The battle was fought, both parties leaving wounded and frustrated, but alive. The wildness of the night settled as Rufus was escorted to the boardroom by his new employees. As quiet fell over the grand office, Penelope made her way to the balcony and looked out over the city. In the distance, she watched Avalanche make their escape and smirked thoughtlessly. In her concentration, she did not notice Reno step up beside her. His voice startled her.

"I have this...burning question. As I watched you space out tonight, it hit me like a brick, and yet...I feel like I don't want to know the answer."

A deep breath left her for the atmosphere. "Did I know the President was dead?"

He nodded once, a look of confused concern coloring his features. "I meant everything I said back at your place. I know you're an excellent Turk. So...that possibility just doesn't make sense to me, you know? Were you really making me swear not to tell anyone that you'd released Avalanche? Or were you actually asking me not to tell anyone...that you let the President die?"

Before the words had even hit the air, she turned and slapped Reno across the face. He swore and stepped back, holding his cheek.

"I did not _let _the President die. I had no control over this."

Carefully, he proposed his follow-up question. "Then...how did he get up here?"

Her mind raced, panic-tainted adrenaline coursing through her veins. "You saw the stairwell door. It's broken to hell; there's blood on it."

His eyes fell to her hands, where he had seen bruises and cuts. He dropped the subject with a resigned sigh.

"I don't want the answer. But Gods...you've put a hell of a weight on me."

Without apology, she turned from the railing and left the balcony in heavy silence. With that, a friendship cooled and a polarizing distance was born.


	13. Rare Form, Sunday Morning

Ten minutes passed quickly as she watched the sleeping form from across the room. The persistent edge to his eyes had faded, smoothing away the sharpness to his features. Only before daybreak, before the city could smoke away any of its purity, did the light of dawn cast a comforting crispness to rooms of visual interest. This was certainly one such room. Just feet out of reach lay the leader of Shinra's diminishing army, unarmed, unaware, at total peace, however temporary the state may have been. Surrounding him were crumpled sheets, a discarded down comforter, and a thin velvet blanket that had wound itself around one strong leg to avoid being tossed from the bed. All were black, save the massive comforter, which contrasted the room with its pure whiteness.

The sun entered the room timidly, as though asking for permission before creeping slowly up the side of the black bed that threatened to snuff it out before it fell upon its occupant. Hidden in the shadowy corner of the room, perched atop a dark wooden bureau, a Turk suppressed a grin of anticipation by sinking a sharp canine into a lower lip. The long curtains had been uncharacteristically pulled back, allowing the intruding light to fall heavily upon closed eyes, where it seemed to remain, paralyzed with fear. The relaxation of the closed eyes fell away to tension, instant aggravation. They drew together quickly before opening, feline pupils narrowing into black slits. It seemed as though he could hear the smile break out in the shadow.

"What...the hell..." he groaned with a voice like gravel. "Do you not sleep?" he asked, throwing an arm over his eyes to block the unstoppable light. The smile widened.

"Not much," was the response. "Aren't you cold? You've wrestled yourself out of the blankets."

"No," he groaned, "I'm adaptive."

"I don't believe I've ever been as comfortable as you looked..."

"You undervalue a nice mattress."

She laughed at the seriousness to the comment and slid off of the bureau. Her long legs carried her silently to the side of the bed, where she cast a shadow over his face. His arm fell back to his side.

"That's perfect. Stay right there for the next three hours."

"How lazy. You waste a perfect morning like this," she chided softly. A bright green eye cracked open, glaring at her disapprovingly. He turned his head toward her upon noticing her appearance: White cotton pants, a white tank top, hair down and naturally wavy.

"You're off today?"

"I had to drop off a file I'd been working on."

"Such dedication will get you nowhere," he sighed, rolling smoothly onto his side. "It makes the rest of us look bad."

"Lazy," she amended with a grin.

"Yes, lazy. We _must_ be lazy every so often..."

"...to protect your sanity?" The question was met with a scoff.

"No. We lost that years ago. More just to keep us from getting bored. But then, there is no such thing as 'lazy' on one's day off."

"There is no 'day off.' You work for Shinra."

His eyes finally opened and looked upon her sympathetically. "Oh...they've broken you. And it happened so quickly. You've been in the suit for...two years? At most?" She laughed, her head falling back in defeated amusement. He closed his eyes again and slowly continued, "There is certainly a 'day off.' And you must learn to overcome those voices that say, 'Turn in the file,' and, 'Get dressed,' and, 'Get out of bed.'" As he spoke, he waved her closer. She skeptically sat on the edge of the bed. Her defenses were not fast enough for his lightning-quick reach. He yanked her forcefully into him. As she lay frozen on top of his left arm, his fingers digging into her shoulder, his right hand heavily covered her mouth. "We must silence those little voices that spout heresy such as, 'There is no day off,' and close the prying eyes that invade our precious hours of rest." His hand dragged across her face, forcing her eyes closed as she laughed. Eventually, her laughter faded into a smile, her eyes reopening upon feeling his slow breath on her temple. His oppressive hand slid downward to the bed, lazily embracing her shoulders.

Violet eyes explored the angles of his face, softened by sleepiness. In the morning sun, his skin glowed, ethereal against the shining silver that cascaded down his neck and shoulders, loose strands wildly framing his face. The contrast of black fabric surrounding him seemed only to light him from within. She noticed that, in his most natural state, his lips did not flatline, as she had once accused, but instead, curved upward ever so slightly. He appeared to know something she did not as he held her in both of his arms, muscles weighing her down and propping her up simultaneously.

"Why me?" she asked softly, turning to face him directly. His eyes fluttered, but did not open. Silver brows furrowed.

"Ssh."

"I'm serious. Why am I party to this? Why can't everyone know you have a sense of humor? Why does this have to be your rare form?"

"Oh, I've made a terrible mistake..." he groaned, frustrated at her questioning.

"Maybe, but the question is already out, so..." She turned in his arms, the sun lighting her hair from behind. He slowly opened his eyes and fixed them on her dark waves.

"Why must you never accept things as they are? Must you take a hammer to the clock to learn what makes it tick?" Her silence signalled agreeance. He sighed again. "You're special. You understand me more than anyone I know. You stood out from the moment I saw you. I cannot imagine life without you. Is this what you want to hear?"

With that, she threw his arm off of her and got out of the bed. "Enjoy your day off." As she neared the bedroom door, he stopped her with four words.

"You won't like it."

She did not turn, but placed her hand on the doorframe. "What?"

"Penelope Marx, who lives for her files, has one with her very name on it. And I have seen it. A _lot_ of it." He grinned upon seeing her jaw clench. "You have a dirty little secret tying you to the company. Your career was decided at the ripe old age of seven. No flight risk, Marx." He lowered his head again, allowing her to process his answer.

"You aren't afraid of losing me...because I couldn't go anywhere if I wanted to..." She turned and leaned her head on the doorframe. "...Just like you."

"Doesn't seem so crazy, does it? Birds of a feather. Enjoy it. You should be honored."

She smiled at his feigned optimism. "I'm no sure thing, General. I could still be killed, you know. Then you'd be alone."

He scoffed again. "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

She smiled at what sounded like a compliment.

"I'll never be alone if I don't want to be." A pillow flew into his face and he laughed once, waving her back over to him. "Come now. It's not yet noon; it's Sunday. These are not waking hours. Close those damned curtains."

Penelope paused, mentally rescheduling her morning plans, then crossed the room again, closing the sun out of the room. Within twenty minutes, sleep overcame her as she lay between black sheets, a strong arm resting against her own, silver strands covering her bare shoulder.


	14. Those Left

The door opened silently, having been adjusted more than once to achieve the effect. Still, it was heavier than Reno thought it should be.

He stepped into the sterile room, nostrils burning with the dry air. A single blue eye locked onto him from the bed.

"It's cool outside today. The rain last night…" Reno trailed, dropping the act before it could even begin. He crossed the floor quickly, sitting in the stiff chair at the bedside. He tried not to look at the bandages around the man's neck, as they reminded him too vividly of the first time he saw the injuries that the Weapon had inflicted. Though the war had ended a week ago, images of the pristine white suit jacket stained a violent red still kept Reno awake at night.

"I have to tell you something. Tseng told me to wait, but I know you'd be angry if you'd found out later…" he paused, though he knew he would not receive any verbal response. "It's about Marx."

Rufus sighed, closing his unbandaged eye.

"We've checked anywhere we have men in the area. She hasn't come back. Her apartment is virtually destroyed, but empty. No one has seen her in the ruins, no one has seen her around here. The last time anyone saw her in the city…" It was his turn to sigh. "I think it was me. She was on her way out for the day, I thought. We stopped on the front step of HQ and looked up at Meteor, and...and I said, 'It seems like it could be any day now, huh?' And...she touched my arm and had this look in her eye. I didn't understand."

Rufus nodded, though the motion was so minute that only one watching closely could catch it. Then, he reached slowly for the pen and pad of paper on the swivel tabletop attached to his bed. With what appeared to be a great effort, he wrote a single word: _Dead?_

Reno ran a hand through his hair, biting the inside of his lip. "She was spotted leaving Cosmo the morning after I saw her at HQ. When Tseng checked her apartment, all her weapons were gone. Her bike was gone. She'd cleared out. So...no, we don't think she's dead. We think she's…"

Another great effort resulted in a longer scrawled word:_ Deserted_. Reno read it twice, then nodded with resignation. His eyes fell to the plain white floor just in time to miss the small pad of paper fly through the air, but he did see it crash into the wall opposite the bed. And as Rufus grimaced in the pain such activity caused, Reno caught a glimpse of the wire forcing his jaw closed. He shuddered, then quickly left his chair to sit on the edge of the bed, his steady hand covering a shakier one.

"I know that's...I know that hurts. I know she'd been around for a long time. And after Reeve, and now...I know you must view us all with a little doubt...But listen, you know you can trust us. Tseng, Rude, Elena, all of us. We're still here. I'm still here," he added, gently squeezing Rufus's hand, though Rufus would not look at him. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Look at me." Rufus stared into nothing. Reno swallowed hard and sat up straighter. "I know you're not used to taking orders, but you have to look at me." Still, Rufus refused, hiding everything he could behind his empty gaze.

"Just fucking look at me," Reno commanded, his voice straining, both frustrated and desperate. Surprised at the tone, Rufus turned his head, finally looking into painfully sincere aquamarine eyes that fully supported each word that followed.

"I've got your back. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand?"

Rufus nodded once, a quick blink sending a single tear down his cheek. Reno brushed it away with his thumb.

"I know, this air makes my eyes water too, Boss. We should get a humidifier in here or something."


End file.
